Not Your Prince Charming
by the moon of my life
Summary: "Well, what do you want me to say?" There was a pause, and Hannah could hear Dean slam his car door shut. From the sound of it, she assumed Dean had stopped at a gas station. Then he said something unexpected: "Say you'll hit the road with me." Hannah blinked then blinked again. Was Dean Winchester actually suggesting that they hunt together? / Season 1 and onward.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **This is my attempt at a _Supernatural _fic, so I'm excited and nervous. Bear with me if everything is not accurate. I'd like to thank my best friend _flailingwhaling _for helping me out with the story. Also, review! Please review! Anyways, enjoy :)

**Disclaimer****: **I don't own _Supernatural_, only Hannah Singer and other non-canon characters

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

As accustomed, a new word she learned today, as it was for five year old Hannah Singer to keep a machete under her pillow, she knew it wasn't exactly _normal _for a five year old to think that it was. Most children kept dolls and stuffed animals in their bed, not knives. Then again, they didn't know about the monsters.

Her dad told her all about monsters. They didn't hide under your bed or in your closet like everyone thought they did, well, at least not _all _of them. They took control of your body and made you do bad things. Which was what happened to Hannah's mom.

You would think knowing about monsters would scare Hannah and she wouldn't be able to sleep, but it didn't. Her dad assured her that no monsters would sneak into their house because he protected it with booby traps, like in the _Indiana Jones _movies.

A commotion was heard downstairs making Hannah awaken with a flinch. Grabbing the machete, she slowly set her small bare feet on the hardwood floor, careful not to make it creak. Silent as a shadow, Hannah left her room quickly but slowed her pace when she moved down the staircase.

She could hear voices. Hannah's heart beat faster, her hands growing clammy as she got closer to the noise.

"Shouldn't we have called first?" asked a small voice.

"He'll know it's us," grunted a much deeper voice. "If only he wouldn't keep changing his damn locks..."

Lifting her machete, Hannah let out a cry. "_Ahh_!"

"_Ahh!" _screamed two other voices. "_Don't hurt us_!"

The light flicked on, revealing two boys about her age and a dark-haired man standing near the open front door. Hannah froze, unsure of what to do until she heard her dad come from downstairs, a shotgun in his hands.

Her dad lowered the gun as soon as he realized who they were. Hannah did the same, guessing they weren't burglars. _Or monsters_, she thought, relieved.

"Bobby, I didn't mean to scare you or your little girl," apologized the man.

"Balls!" Her dad looked alarmed when he saw the machete in Hannah's hands. "Girl! What do you think you're doing with that?"

Hannah blushed, ashamed. "I thought they were burglars, Daddy," she explained, squeaking when her dad snatched the machete from her hands.

It was quiet for a moment until one of the boys—the one with dark brown hair loudly asked, "_What _is going on here? You guys live in a house with a bunch of weapons! Do you know how dangerous that is?!"

"Weapons?" blinked Hannah. "What weapons? These are... toys!"

"Toys?" deadpanned the other boy. His hair was a lighter shade of brown than his brother's, and his eyes a brighter green. They were pretty, almost too pretty for a boy.

"Yes!" Hannah exclaimed, flailing her arms.

A beat passed before her dad forced her and the boys to watch T.V. in the living room. She found the remote and climbed on the couch. The boys did the same, sandwiching her. The older one stared blankly at the T.V. while the younger one fiddled with the strings to his hoodie.

After settling on _MacGyver_, the three of them watched in silence.

"I'm Hannah," she said suddenly. When they gave her odd looks, she smiled shyly. "We never told each other our names."

"Sam," said the dark-haired boy.

"Dean," said the older one.

They went back to watching in silence. Hannah had never been good at talking to people which was why she didn't have much friends in kindergarten.

"Where's the bathroom?" Sam asked her.

"I'll show you!" Hannah hopped off the couch and led Sam to the bathroom.

She waited in the hallway as he did his business, rocking back and forth on her heels. When the door swung open, Sam looked surprised to find her there.

"I didn't want you to get lost," Hannah explained. "That's not how you're supposed to treat your guests."

"Well, thanks," Sam said, looking friendlier. "You're weird, but in a cool way."

Hannah tilted her head, wondering if she should take it as a compliment. With a shrug, Hannah grabbed Sam's wrist and they ran back to the living room. She noticed the bored look on Dean's face and nudged him with her foot.

"What?" he asked, rolling his eyes to her.

"Want to play cards?"

"Whatever."

_He's mean_, Hannah thought as she hurried to the library where her dad kept the deck of playing cards. The library was her favorite part of the house. She loved to read, especially books about legendary animals like unicorns and mermaids.

When she passed the kitchen, she could her dad talking to Sam and Dean's dad about a particular monster. "Yellow eyed demon," she heard Sam and Dean's dad say. Normally, Hannah would have stayed to listen, but she knew that was rude and continued her way back to the living room.

It was near three o'clock and their fourth round of Crazy Eights when her dad walked in.

"Hannah, the boys will be staying with us for a couple days while their father is out doing business," he explained, looking apologetic. "You should go to bed, girl."

She gasped, scaring everyone in the room. "I almost forgot that school's tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow's Friday. You can miss one day."

"No way! Tomorrow we're supposed to make a house out of a cereal box!"

Her dad stared at her, his eyes narrowed before waving his hands dismissively. "You're staying home. Now go to bed."

Hannah pouted and collected the cards before putting them carefully back in the box.

"Where will Sam and Dean sleep?" she asked, looking up at her dad.

"Out here. I'll get them extra pillows and sheets," he answered then ushered her upstairs. "Bed. Now."

Using the bathroom again, she headed to her room. Hannah whirled, knowing that someone had followed her upstairs. She relaxed when she saw that it was Dean.

"I just wanted to say that I know those weren't toys," Dean told her. Before Hannah could argue, he spoke again. "Thanks for not telling Sam. He... doesn't know."

"He doesn't know about the monsters?" Hannah questioned, surprised.

Dean shook his head, a confused look on his face. "No. He doesn't," he said then smiled, but it wasn't a nice one. "You call them _monsters_?"

"What else should I call them?"

"Supernatural."

Hannah stared at him. Supernatural huh? Well, at least she learned another word today.


	2. Woman in White

**Author's Note: **I accidentally deleted this story, but luckily I recovered it. I'd like to thank everyone for following and favoriting this story before and I hope you continue to read it! Special thanks to _AlwaysQuinn, __Apollofan210,_ and _IridescentLullaby_ for following, and _Iansarmy_ for favoriting. Also, review! I'd love to know what you guys think!

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><p><strong>1.<strong>

**Woman in White**

_For Whom the Bell Tolls _by Metallica jingled in the silent room, startling Hannah awake. She blindly reached for her phone, wincing from the harsh light when she flipped it open.

"Dean Winchester, do you know what time it is?" She could hear Van Halen playing in the background.

"_What time is it in South Dakota?_" he asked.

"Almost four o'clock, you jerkface!"

"_Aren't you usually so chipper in the morning?_" Dean questioned. She could tell he was grinning on the other line.

Hannah rolled over to her side, using her other arm to cover her eyes. "Not when you haven't called me in nearly a year and the one time you do it's at four in the morning."

"_You said it was_ almost _four o'clock_."

"Don't correct me at this hour, Dean."

He laughed, a sound that made Hannah's heartbeat quicken. She and Dean weren't exactly close. The four-year age difference didn't help, and their personalities were so different that Hannah could easily understand why they weren't especially close, but Hannah liked to think that they were friends. Not close ones, but friends nevertheless.

"_My dad is missing_," Dean said suddenly.

"Your dad is missing?" Hannah repeated, removing her arm from over her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"_He hasn't answered his phone in weeks, Hannah_."

"Well..." She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. "Your dad has always been cryptic."

"_That's an understatement_," he muttered. The song changed to an unfamiliar one. "_I think he's getting close to the thing that killed my mom_."

"Thing that killed your mom?" Hannah yawned.

Dean snorted. "_Does lack of sleep turn you into a parrot?_"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, what do you want me to say?"

There was a pause, and Hannah could hear Dean slam his car door shut. From the sound of it, she assumed Dean had stopped at a gas station. Then he said something unexpected:

"_Say you'll hit the road with me_."

Hannah blinked then blinked again.

Was Dean Winchester _actually _suggesting that they hunt together?

After their first and last hunt together, Hannah was certain Dean would never want to do a case with her again. Despite her vast knowledge in the supernatural and how to kill it, when it came to _hunting _Hannah was rather inexperienced. Her dad was reluctant to let her handle cases alone, and even with him nonetheless. The vampire case she and Dean handled a few years ago had been a bit... messy, so Hannah stuck to research. Still, the idea of defeating some monster _herself_ thrilled her.

"Where are you planning on going?" Hannah inquired.

"_California_," he answered jauntily.

It took only a minute for Hannah to make the connection.

"That's where Sam lives," she stated.

"_Uh-huh_." He sounded distracted.

"... Have you talked to Sam abo-"

"_I'm going to_," Dean interrupted. "_Look, Princess, you and I both know that Sammy never got along with our dad, but... he's still our dad and Sam will want to make sure Dad's safe. Don't you want to see him too?_"

She ignored the nickname he used and said, "Of course I want to see Sam. It's been three years."

"_Awesome. I'll be in Sioux Falls a day from now_," Dean replied then promptly hung up.

A beat passed before Hannah slowly snapped her phone shut and tossed it on the other side of the bed. She groaned and said aloud, "Great, now I can't go back to sleep."

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><p>The moment Dean ended his conversation with Hannah, he regretted his decision to invite her. <em>What was I thinking? <em>Dean wondered.

With her wide blue eyes and smile as sweet as pumpkin pie, Hannah Singer was not your typical hunter. She was too nice, too trusting, nothing like the battle-hardened hunters Dean encountered, and how could he forget the disaster with the vampire case? The girl let her guard down for _a second _and nearly got herself killed.

No, Dean couldn't let sweet little Hannah join him and his brother on this dangerous search for his dad. He wouldn't jeopardize the life of Bobby's only kid, not after all the times Bobby took care of him and Sam.

Sam. It felt like ages since Dean had seen or heard from his little brother. All he knew was that Sam was probably some hotshot at Stanford University. He usually had a devil-may-care attitude, but he couldn't help feeling nervous about seeing Sam again.

Dean sighed, hating how stupid he was acting. Sam would be happy to see him. They were brothers after all, and Dean practically took care of him. Could three years really change a person?

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><p>"You're going where?" questioned Faye Browning.<p>

"I'm going to California to visit Sam," Hannah answered absentmindedly. She was packing a duffel bag for her road trip, folding her clothes carefully so she could fit her books and toiletries.

"Alone?" Faye asked, her usually calm voice doused with worry.

Hannah flashed her redhead friend a smile before returning to her duffel bag. "No, I'm going with Dean. He's coming from... somewhere and we're going to drive there."

Faye frowned.

"Dean. The same Dean with the man-whorish tendencies?"

"That's the one!" Hannah chirped, unable to contain her excitement. When she told her dad the plan, he looked so close to refusing her, but when she pulled back her lower lip with her teeth, he seemed torn and made her promise not to do anything too reckless and to call him before she went to bed.

"Han, are you _sure _this is a good idea? Why not take a plane? Driving seems so troublesome, and with _Dean_ too?"

_Because the things in Dean's trunk would have TSA all over us_, Hannah thought.

She and Faye had been best friends for over ten years yet Hannah still hadn't told her about what went bump in the night, and it wasn't like Faye would believe her. Faye was a true skeptic, rolling her eyes and scoffing when someone admitted that they believed in ghosts.

Racking her brain for a believable excuse, Hannah turned around to face her expectant friend.

"Dean is afraid of flying," Hannah blurted out. "Yeah, he, um, gets nervous. He had an anxiety attack a couple of years ago."

"Really?" Faye was nonplussed. "Well, I guess I'll see you...?"

"I'll be back before Thanksgiving," she said, smiling softly. "You shouldn't worry so much. Dean's charms won't work on me."

Faye didn't seem too convinced, but left her room to get changed for work. She worked as a waitress at a restaurant in Rapid City. Hannah shared an apartment with her, but from time to time, she liked staying with her dad, usually when he needed help researching a case for a hunter. Dean had no idea she lived in Rapid City, so Hannah planned on finishing up her packing and driving back to her dad's house.

Thanks to Faye's concern over her and Dean spending twenty-five hours together in car, it made Hannah wonder if anything _would _happen. She wasn't oblivious to Dean's promiscuity, she actually found it disgusting. Hannah shook off her suspicions.

She wasn't Dean's type anyway.

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><p>The next morning, Dean checked out of the motel he was staying at and made a non-stop drive to Sioux Falls. He had been in New Orleans doing a voodoo case. It was a bit of a challenge, but nothing Dean couldn't handle himself.<p>

Bobby's house had always been a second home to Dean. The salvage yard was his favorite part of the house. He remembered helping Bobby fix cars when he had been younger, learning all there was to the mechanics. Dean could spend hours fixing and improving his Baby.

_She'll probably pout and use those big blues on me, _Dean thought as he parked in front of Bobby's house. Hannah's infamous pout worked on Bobby every time, but it wouldn't work on Dean.

Dean _loved _to rile Hannah up. It was almost too easy. She was so damn perky sometimes that it annoyed the hell out of Dean. Her sincerity and kindness daunted him at times, but Dean thought it was the hunter in him that wanted to make sure she was still a normal person. That was also his excuse every time Hannah demanded to know why he teased her.

"Bobby!" Dean grinned when the front door swung open, revealing Bobby Singer in his signature trucker hat. He always thought of Bobby as a second father, sometimes even wishing that he _was_ his father, but then he would regret thinking it, feeling like a traitor to his real dad.

"I know I don't have to remind you to take good care of my daughter," Bobby said, stepping aside to let him through the door.

"About that. Bobby, I don't think..." Dean trailed off, his train of thought derailing completely at the sight of Hannah Singer.

_Whoa_, was the first thing Dean thought. Actually, who was he kidding? The first thing he thought was, _when did she get boobs?_

It was Hannah, but it wasn't. The baby fat in her cheeks had melted, making her look her age. Her brown hair fell in silky waves just below her collarbone. The silver hamsa amulet he had given her for her eleventh birthday was tucked between her ample cleavage. That chest! Those curves! It was like an unexpected blow to the face for Dean.

How had Hannah, who had simply been just his childhood friend, become _Hannah_, this insanely hot twenty-two year old woman?

Then she smiled, and the daze Dean was in vanished. She was still Hannah, the same uptight, bookish little girl he grew up with. Her smile was unlike the ones he usually saw with women her age. Her smile was still innocent, still retained that immeasurable sweetness that he was used to.

"Ready to go?" she asked as she dragged a duffel down the staircase.

Dean swallowed thickly, trying to remember how to talk.

"I think this is too dangerous for you," Dean heard himself say.

"Huh?" She stood in front of him, tilting her head with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Dad's missing and we have no idea how dangerous the thing he's hunting is. You could get hurt bad, Hannah. I hope you know that."

She blinked owlishly. "You think I don't know that?" was her response. "I don't think hunting is just some game, Dean. I hope _you _know that."

Hannah pushed past him, hauling her duffel bag with her. Dean stood there, dumbfounded until he heard Bobby snort behind him.

"She sure told you," the older hunter chuckled.

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><p>Driving with Dean had been... interesting to say the least. Hannah swore that Dean loved his Impala a bit too intensely.<p>

Was it possible for someone to get even better looking? Dean had always been handsome, but looking at him now... _Stop. You are better than this_, Hannah thought, refusing to entertain these notions. Dean was still the same immature, childish, man-whore she knew. Not the "bad boy" girls from afar thought he was.

They were finally at Sam's place, a modest looking apartment. Hannah adjusted her sky blue cardigan, waiting for Dean to finally speak up. He had been eyeing the apartment for a while now.

"Should we just... knock?" Hannah suggested.

"No." He turned to her, smirking. "Want a beer?"

Without waiting for an answer, Dean climbed out of his car and headed towards the fire escape. Hannah's eyes widened and she scrambled after him. She grabbed his arm, and he whirled, giving her a questioning look.

"What?" he said, miffed.

"Are you seriously about to climb the fire escape instead of knocking on his door?" she asked, incredulous.

Dean pretended to think about his answer before nodding with an affirmative yes.

"Dean!" Hannah's voice threatened to turn into a whine. "We haven't seen Sam in _three _years. How do you think he'll respond to us climbing through his window?"

"With uncontained happiness," Dean replied, in a flat voice. "Now come on, Princess! I need a beer."

"I am _not _your princess!" Hannah snapped. She wanted to stomp her foot out of frustration. "Dean!"

He ignored her, continuing his way up the fire escape to Sam's apartment. Hannah followed him, hissing that he needed to stop. Dean disregarded everything she said, trekking up the escape until he found Sam's window.

"Dean," Hannah warned then let out an audible gasp when Dean had the audacity to wink at her before opening Sam's window and climbing inside.

Sighing because she knew this was about to be a catastrophe, Hannah followed Dean inside. She teetered, bumping into the back of Dean who stumbled forward. He glared at her from over his shoulder before motioning her to follow him. They continued towards the kitchen, or at least Hannah _thought _it was the kitchen. It was so dark she had no idea where she was going, only following the leader.

Hannah leaped back when Dean, without warning, aimed his fist at someone's face. _Sam_, she realized, cupping her mouth shut with both hands to keep from yelling at them. After some struggling, Dean finally knocked Sam to the floor. He kept one hand at Sam's throat and the other at Sam's wrist.

"Whoa, easy, tiger," Dean said, grinning.

"Dean?" Sam panted, stunned. Dean laughed. "You scared the crap out of me! Wait, I saw another person."

Sam tilted his head back, his deep green eyes widening when he noticed Hannah. She waved mildly.

"Hannah?" He sounded even more surprised.

"Dean, will you get off of Sam?" Hannah asked, stepping towards the entangled brothers.

"Actually, I feel kind of comfy. Hey, Sammy, you make a pretty nice mattress." Dean snickered then collapsed on Sam when Hannah climbed on his back, halfheartedly hitting his head with her fists. "Get off me, Hannah."

"No. I told you not to climb through Sam's window and what do you do? Exactly what I told you _not _to do! You could have given him a heart attack, Dean." Hannah tilted her body so she could see Sam. She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry about this."

"It's fine, Hannah," Sam wheezed.

The lights flicked on, and the three of them turned to see a blonde girl dressed in only a crop top with the Smurfs and pink shorts. Hannah blushed, realizing they must have looked strange. She yelped when Dean sat up abruptly, causing her to fall backwards.

She smiled and squeaked when Sam helped her to her feet, alarmed by the sheer strength he had. Dusting herself off, Hannah smiled awkwardly in the blonde girl's direction.

"Jess, hey. Dean, Hannah, this is my girlfriend, Jessica," Sam introduced, glancing at everyone.

Hannah refrained from rolling her eyes when she noticed the way Dean's eyes traveled up and down Jess's body. She smiled sympathetically at Sam who seemed just as irritated.

"Wait, your friend from South Dakota Hannah?" Jess asked, looking at Hannah with interest.

"Sorry about the commotion," Hannah apologized. Jess smiled warmly, seeming to forgive her completely.

"And your brother Dean?"

Sam nodded, and Dean moved towards Jess, grinning. "I love the Smurfs," professed Dean. He cocked his head to the side. "You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league, but most of his exes have been, well, too good for him."

Jess gave Sam a questioning look before excusing herself to go put something on.

"No, no, no." Dean stopped her, shaking his head. "I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously."

"Dean," Hannah threatened.

"Calm down, Princess."

"I am _not_ your princess!" Hannah hissed then turned to Sam, wanting to get straight to business. "We need to talk. Right, Dean?"

"Right," Dean agreed for once. He smiled charmingly at Jess. "We gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business, but, uh, nice meeting you."

"No." Sam walked over to his girlfriend and wrapped his arm around her. "Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of her."

Neither noticed the look Hannah shot Dean.

"Okay. Dad hasn't been home in a few days," Dean started, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back sooner or later," Sam replied confidently.

_Oh Sam, _Hannah thought, frowning. Did he despise hunting so much that he was refusing to humor them?

"Dad's on a _hunting _trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days," Dean clarified.

A myriad of emotions flitted across Sam's face as he let what Dean said sink in. Hannah shifted on her feet, waiting patiently for his response.

"Jess, excuse us." Sam finally said.

Following the boys, Hannah headed downstairs. She wrapped her cardigan more snug around her, feeling the hairs on her arms stiffen from the cool air.

"Come on you guys. You can't just break in, middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you," Sam said, glancing behind him at Hannah. "And I thought Bobby didn't let you do hunts. I mean, remember the vam—?"

"I remember!" Hannah didn't need to be reminded of the awful first hunt she experienced. "Daddy was reluctant, but he told me to be extra careful."

"I'm also very persuasive," added Dean, waggling his brows.

"You called me at four in morning. My brain wasn't functioning properly."

"_Almost _four in the morning. How do you keep forgetting that detail?"

They paused, all staring at each other. Dean grew serious as he turned back to his brother.

"You're not hearing me, Sammy," he said. "Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him." Sam gestured to Hannah. She gasped, offended when Dean rolled his eyes at her. "Tell him why you're here."

"To see you," Hannah said to Sam. His face softened. "And to learn more about, you know, hunting."

The research part of hunting was where Hannah excelled. She was like Velma from _Scooby-Doo_ except she didn't wear or lose her glasses. But Hannah didn't want to be Daphne either. She wanted to know how to use a shotgun, say she exorcised a demon, _save _people.

"Dad's always missing," Sam said, eyes meeting Dean's again. "And he's always fine."

"Not for this long. Now are you coming with us or not?" Dean questioned.

"I'm not," Sam answered forcefully.

"Why not?"

"I swore I was done hunting. For good."

"Come on. It wasn't easy, but it wasn't _that_ bad," Dean insisted, starting downstairs again. Hannah tried to keep up with their quick strides while making sure her breasts didn't pop out of her bra.

"Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45," Sam argued then stopped when Hannah missed her footing, catching her from falling.

"Thanks," she whispered, smiling widely. Sam returned it, although his smile was less wide.

Dean halted at the door leading outside. He looked at them. "Well, what was he supposed to do?" he asked Sam.

"I was _nine_ years old!" Sam said, exasperated. "He was supposed to say—"

"Don't be afraid of the dark?" Hannah finished for him. "Don't be so naïve, Sam. We know what's out there, so of course we should be afraid, but that doesn't mean we should run away."

"I didn't run away," Sam told her. "But still, Han. The way we grew up, after Mom was killed. You wouldn't understand. Bobby never made you live in different motels every two weeks. You still have a chance to walk away from all this."

Hannah recoiled. "You think just because I lived in a house in the _same _place makes me normal? I didn't have any friends, Sam! I was the only person in elementary school who knew that the Boogeyman was real! Some girls started a rumor that I was in a cult because of the anti-possession tattoo I have! Should I tell you more about how _not _normal my life was, and still is?"

"No," Sam said. There was an apologetic look on his face. "I didn't mean to insult you, Hannah."

She merely turned away, staring at the door.

"You think Mom would have wanted this for us?" Sam asked.

Dean opened the door forcefully, holding it briefly so Hannah wouldn't get hit. They continued down a short flight of stairs to the parking lot.

"The weapon training, and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors," Sam said as the three of them crossed the parking lot to the Impala.

"So, what are you gonna do? You're just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?" Dean demanded. Hannah gulped, starting to feel nervous about the heated tone in Dean's voice.

"No. Not normal. Safe," Sam replied.

"And that's why you ran away," Dean stated, echoing Hannah's words. He looked away, his eyes meeting Hannah's briefly. She mouthed, "_Calm down_." He scoffed and turned back to Sam.

"I was just going to college. It was _Dad_ who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone, and that's what I'm doing," Sam explained, shrugging helplessly.

"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now. If not dead already. I can feel it," Dean responded. Sam said nothing. "We can't do this alone."

Sam scoffed. "Yes you can."

"Sam," Hannah begged. "Please just do this. If not for your dad then for Dean."

Hannah chewed her lower lip, staring at him with pleading eyes. She heard Sam mutter, "Oh no."

He let his head fall then looked back up at both Hannah and Dean, sighing. "What was he hunting?"

With a smirk, Dean opened the trunk to the Impala, informing Sam of what John Winchester was last hunting before he disappeared. Hannah smiled gratefully at Sam who only sighed again.

* * *

><p>While Sam went back to his apartment to pack a duffel bag, Hannah sat on the hood of the Impala. Dean leaned against it, his body close to hers. She looked cold, but Dean was no gentleman, so he didn't offer her his jacket.<p>

As subtly as he could, he let his gaze wander down to her cleavage. Her breasts seemed to be straining against her white tank top underneath her cardigan. _When did she get such a rack? _Maybe she always had a chest like that and he just never noticed. Dean hadn't seen her in person for the last couple months since he had been with his dad. Hannah had been busy with school too, so their visits were usually short.

That would easily explain why Dean never noticed Hannah's development.

It was a strange feeling for Dean. He always saw Hannah as a little girl, so naïve and sweet. Now he couldn't even remember how she looked as a little girl, all because she grew curves.

"What are you staring at?" Dean froze, realizing how _unsubtle _he had been in ogling Hannah's chest.

"Your necklace," he replied deftly. "You still wear that old thing?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Hannah fingered the thin silver chain. "You gave it to me for my birthday, remember?"

"I remember. Doesn't mean you have to wear it."

Hannah smiled and nudged him playfully. "Of course I have to wear it!"

Dean smirked and nudged her back. "So you wear it out of obligation?"

"No!" Hannah laughed lightly. "I wear it because it's the nicest gift you've ever given me."

Then she smiled, and guilt overwhelmed Dean. He wet his lips, trying to configure something to say. Did she have to be so _nice _all the time?

"It's the _only _gift I've ever given you," Dean pointed out.

"Still nice." Hannah shrugged, not in the least upset over that fact.

Sam returned, carrying a duffel bag and a reluctant look on his face. Dean tried not to smirk. He didn't think he'd ever see the day he was _glad _that Hannah used her infamous pout. Sam stood no chance, caving in once she pouted and used those big blues on him.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he waited as Sam pushed the passenger seat forward so Hannah could climb into the backseat. Turning up the radio, he started their drive towards Jericho, California.

* * *

><p>Hannah woke up with a knot in her neck. Slowly, she lifted her face from the window in the backseat of the Impala, rubbing her groggy eyes. When her vision cleared, she realized that they were at a gas station.<p>

Sam was still in the passenger seat, rummaging through Dean's cassettes. He noticed Hannah and smiled at her. "Morning."

"Morning," she forced out, her voice hoarse. "Mm, where's Dean?"

"Right here," said a familiar, husky voice. "You guys want breakfast?"

She and Sam peaked out the window to see Dean carrying junk food. Hannah held out her hand and was about to grasp a granola bar when Dean pulled back, waving it in her face with a smirk.

"What's the magic word?" he asked.

"Dean," she whined.

"I don't think that's it, but that's nice of you to think my name is magic, Princess," Dean joked. Hannah chewed her lower lip, too tired to upbraid him for the annoying nickname. "Fine. You're no fun when you just wake up, anyway."

Smiling, Hannah opened her granola bar and nibbled a piece off. She tuned out the boys as she ate her "breakfast." It wasn't until she heard "update" and "tape" in the same sentence did she listen.

"Sam's right. You really should update your music," Hannah pipped then rolled her eyes. "Do you know how many times I had to listen to AC/DC on the way here?"

"Well, house rules, kids," Dean said, about to put the tape into the cassette player. "Driver picks music, shotgun shuts his piehole, and backseat doesn't say shit."

Hannah widened her eyes, peeved. Hastily, she rifled through her purse to find a tape that she loved so dearly. Handing it to Sam, he glanced at it then grinned in Hannah's direction.

"Uh, Dean, why not play this one?" Sam didn't even wait, taking the tape out himself and putting in the one Hannah gave him.

"Hey!" Dean turned on the engine to the Impala. "What the...?"

"_Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want. So tell me what you want, what you really really want. I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want. So tell me what you want, what you really really want_—"

Dean turned off the radio and turned to gape at Hannah with a flustered look on his face. Hannah didn't know whether she should laugh or not. _He looks like a fish_, Hannah thought, amused.

"I'm tempted to throw your ass out of this fucking car for pulling that bull—!"

"Dean, calm down!" Sam exclaimed, sounding close to laughing too.

"Spice Girls is a classic!" Hannah said defensively, bouncing from side to side. "If you had a CD player we could play some Britney Spears..."

A beat passed before Dean blurted out, "Hannah, are you possessed?"

Sam guffawed from the sheer absurdity of it all, and Hannah couldn't blame him.

* * *

><p>"Check it out," Hannah said, looking ahead.<p>

Dean followed her gaze, observing the police cars by the bridge. He pulled the Impala over to the side of the road.

The three of them stared for awhile before Dean turned off the engine and reached over to the glove compartment. She knew he kept the fake IDs in there. Most of them had his and John Winchester's faces on them. Her dad had promised to make some for her and would have them ready by the time she returned from this case.

"Hannah, stay here," Dean told her, blocking her from getting out.

"Why?" Hannah asked.

"You're not familiar with pretending to be an FBI agent, remember?" He poked her forehead with two of his fingers. Hannah swatted his hand away. "Watch and learn, Princess."

"Not your princess," Hannah retorted lazily.

The two Winchesters traipsed over to the police, leaving Hannah to wait in the Impala. _Great_, she thought, bothered that Dean didn't trust her completely. Sighing, Hannah decided to call Faye.

She picked after the third ring. "_Hey. How's California?_" Faye inquired.

"Are you working?" Hannah questioned, unable to ignore the sound of plates clattering and food cooking in the background. "I can call you later if you are."

"_No, it's fine. So, what's up?_"

"The guys are just being, I don't know, idjits, Faye. Dean treats me like a child and Sam—" Hannah stopped herself, mentally kicking herself for bringing up Sam to Faye.

"_Han, it's fine to mention him. It's not like he's Voldemort_."

"We do not speak of him! Oh! Are we going to see the newest _Harry Potter_ when I come back?"

Faye chuckled. "_I guess, but what do you mean 'Dean treats you like a child'?_"

Hannah sighed. "Everywhere we go, he acts like I'm not capable of taking care of myself."

"_What exactly are you three doing?_"

"Sam is just showing us around."

She knew she sounded vague, but there was no way she could say they were investigating a case. Hannah had a feeling that they were hunting a vengeful ghost, but she needed more information.

The boys were heading back now, so Hannah needed to cut her conversation short. "Faye, I got to go."

"_Hannah—_"

The phone snapped shut and Hannah felt so guilty for hanging up on her friend. Hannah sat up straighter when the doors opened and they slid in.

"Learn anything?" Hannah asked them.

"Nope. Police are clueless," Sam answered as he buckled himself in. "Got any ideas, Han?"

"Vengeful ghost?" Hannah guessed.

"Well, that's something," Dean said, starting the engine. "We're gonna find Troy's girlfriend, Amy. She might know something." He looked back at Hannah and smirked in her direction. "And you don't have to wait in the car."

Hannah narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing. She'd get her revenge with some Spice Girls.

* * *

><p>They found Amy easily.<p>

She was posting up MISSING posters with Troy's face when they approached her. Hannah looked at Dean questioningly when he draped his arm over her shoulders and brought her closer.

"Just go with it," he murmured then stopped when they reached Amy. "You must be Amy."

"Yeah," she said cautiously.

"Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy." Dean ignored the glare Sam sent him.

"And you?" Amy eyed Hannah.

"His girlfriend. I'm Hannah," Hannah said, gesturing to Dean who grinned in response.

"He never mentioned you guys to me," Amy said skeptically. She went over to another post, and they walked alongside her.

"Well, that's Troy, I guess," Dean said casually. "We're not around much, we're up in Modesto."

"So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around," Sam explained.

A girl came up to Amy and touched her arm. "Hey, are you okay?"

Amy forced a smile and nodded her head. "Yeah," she said.

Hannah shrugged off Dean's arm and smiled sympathetically at Amy. "Do you mind if we asked you a couple questions?"

The five of them walked over to a nearby diner. Dean hadn't tried to put his arm around Hannah again. She felt both relieved and disappointed at the same time. It was weird. Dean hated any sort of affection, cringing each time Hannah or Sam attempted to hug him. The last time a guy actually put his arm around her had been her ex boyfriend, Max. She dated him for three months during her last year of high school.

Max had been the first of many things. He had been her first boyfriend, her first kiss, and the first boy she ever danced with at a school dance. Hannah wasn't sure if the relationship was going to go anywhere considering she had gotten accepted into the University of Chicago and he was going, well, nowhere. But Max was the first boy who ever showed her attention, the first boy to call her pretty.

Being beautiful was not something Hannah was used to. She was known as "that-super-smart-nerdy-chick" back in high school. Faye was known as "Faye the Beauty." Hannah didn't remember Faye ever going through an awkward phase. Everything about her was effortless, from her looks to her clothes. Unfortunately, that was why every girl in school resented Faye, except Hannah of course.

"Earth to Hannah." Sam's deep voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Sorry," she mouthed, turning her attention back to Amy and her friends.

"Well, it's just... I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk," Amy's friend said.

"What do they talk about?" Sam and Dean asked in unison. Hannah suppressed a smile. She always found the boys especially cute when they spoke simultaneously.

"It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago," Amy's friend told them in a hushed voice. Dean's eyes flitted to Hannah's, seeming impressed with Hannah's accurate guess. "Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever she picks up? Well, they disappear forever."

She, Sam, and Dean exchanged furtive looks.

* * *

><p>Hannah and Sam watched as Dean typed "female murder hitchhiking" in the search box. There were zero results. Dean replaced "hitchhiking" with "Centennial Highway." Zero results again.<p>

"Let me try," Sam offered, reaching over to use the keyboard. Dean smacked his hand away.

"I got it," growled Dean.

Sam stared at him then shoved him out of his chair. Hannah giggled, biting her lower lip when Dean shot her a dirty look. He punched Sam in the shoulder as he got to his feet. Sam didn't notice.

"Dude! You are such a control freak!" Dean snapped.

"We are in a _library_, remember?" Hannah hissed, glancing around to check if they were disturbing anyone.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You were laughing just a second ago!"

"Guys," Sam called, interrupting their dispute. "So angry spirits are born out of violent deaths, right?"

"Yeah," Hannah and Dean said at the same time, although Dean's voice sounded bored.

"Well, maybe it's not murder," Sam proposed, replacing "murder" with "suicide." There was only one source. Sam clicked on it, and she and Dean leaned forward to read the article. "This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river."

Hannah stared at the picture of Constance Welch. She was beautiful, with olive skin, dark eyes, and dark brown wavy hair. She frowned as she read the article. Drowned her kids. _Sounds like a familiar legend in Mexico_, mused Hannah.

"Hey!" Hannah ducked when Dean began ruffling her hair.

"We're heading to Sylvania Bridge, Space Cadet," Dean informed her.

"Right." Hannah closed the browser on the computer and followed the boys out of the library. "So, how do we take down this ghost if she's drowned? Her husband must have buried her body at the local cemetery."

"We'll figure that out after we check out the bridge," Dean said as he fished for his car keys.

"We're not going to _burn_ the bridge down, are we?" Hannah questioned, her eyes widening. "We need a plan, Dean."

Dean blocked Sam from opening the passenger seat door, thus stopping Hannah from climbing in the backseat. Hannah held Dean's scrutinizing gaze, waiting patiently for his response.

"Winchesters don't plan _anything_," Dean stated, ignoring Sam who shook his head. "We wouldn't get shit done if we just sat around and planned everything, so get used to it, Princess."

Heat rushed to Hannah's cheeks. She opened her mouth to object, but she could only sputter out nonsense. Hannah hastily closed her mouth, refusing to embarrass herself further.

Sam moved his seat, allowing Hannah to get inside the Impala. "You'll get used to it if you travel with him longer," he told her.

"I hope not," Hannah sighed.

* * *

><p>It was night time by the time they reached the bridge. Hannah swallowed down her dread and followed the boys as they walked along the empty bridge. She fingered the silver chain around her neck, looking around for Constance Welch.<p>

"So this is where Constance took the swan dive," Dean said as they looked over the railing. Hannah frowned at his insensitivity. "What?"

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam inquired. He turned to them, waiting for Dean's response.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him," Dean replied, walking forward. Hannah walked beside him, crossing her arms.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam asked.

"Now we keep digging until we find him. It might take awhile," Dean said, slowing down his pace. Hannah glanced behind her, hoping they wouldn't get into another fight.

_These boys are worse than teenage girls,_ Hannah observed. They fought over the littlest things, but the argument blooming now sounded a lot bigger than their normal squabbles.

"Dean," Sam started plaintively. "I told you guys, I've gotta be back by—"

The only sounds Hannah heard were her own ankle boots. She whirled, noticing that Dean had stopped walking and was facing Sam. She chewed her lower lip, preparing herself for another fight.

"Monday," he finished for him. "Right. The interview. Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?"

Sam looked at her, as if she could do something about him. Hannah could only shrug helplessly. She wasn't prepared for Dean to bring up the elephant in the room either.

"Maybe," Sam finally said. "Why not?"

"Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?" Dean questioned.

"No, and she's not ever going to," Sam said sharply, stepping towards Dean in a stiff stance.

"Well, that's healthy," Dean quipped. Hannah could tell there was a mocking smile growing on his face. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are."

He turned around and walked past Hannah. She grabbed his arm and was jerked forward when he barely paused.

"Dean, stop it," Hannah said quietly.

"No, I won't," Dean snapped, ripping his arm away from her grasp.

"Getting him mad won't make him stay, you know!" Hannah exclaimed then jumped when she felt a hand drop to her shoulder. She looked up, and saw that it was Sam.

"It's fine, Hannah," he said, glaring at Dean. "And who's that, Dean?"

"One of _us_." Dean motioned to the three of them.

Sam hurried to stand in front of Dean, his scowl fierce. "No. I'm not like you. This isn't going to be my life."

As much as Hannah wanted to side with Sam, she just couldn't. There was no escaping the hunting lifestyle. You were either born into it or it was thrusted upon you. Her dad was forced to become one after her mom died. Hannah once had the same views as Sam, refusing to accept her fate as a hunter, but growing up knowing that these _creatures_ were real and out there harming others, it didn't settle well with her.

She preferred to think on the bright side, at least she would save people.

"You have a responsibility—"

"To Dad and his crusade?" Sam exploded, "If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like."

"Sam," Hannah gasped.

"Please, Hannah, don't tell me you know what _your_ mom looks like. I don't see Bobby going on a witch hunt for the demon that killed his wife." Sam frowned at her. "What happened, Hannah? You were a student at one of the most prestigious universities in the U.S. You could do something better with your life. And what difference does it make? Even if we _do_ find the things that killed our moms, they're gone. And they're not coming back."

Dean grabbed Sam by the collar and shoved him against the metal beam of the bridge. Hannah gasped and ran over to them, but Dean held his arm out, blocking her.

"Don't talk about our mom or _hers_ like that," Dean flared after a pregnant pause. He took a step back, releasing Sam roughly.

"Guys," Hannah said, the seriousness in her voice calling their attention instantly. "Look."

A woman in a white dress stood at the edge of the bridge. _Constance_, Hannah realized. Her heart hammered in her chest, skipping a beat when Constance looked at them then stepped forward off the bridge. Hannah ran over to the railing first, the boys following a close minute after her.

"Where'd she go?" Hannah asked, looking at them. She hoped her voice didn't betray how frightened she was.

"I don't know," Sam said, sounding more confused than scared.

The roar of an engine startled Hannah. She spun around to see the headlights of the Impala. Hannah, Sam, and Dean exchanged worried glances.

"Who's driving your car?" Sam asked Dean, bewildered.

Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out his car keys. Hannah's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets.

"It's her! It's the ghost!" Hannah yelled, realizing it was Constance who was driving Dean's car.

The tires screeched and the car was in motion. She felt someone grab her arm, shaking her out of her trance. Hannah ran as fast as she could, but the car sounded like it was getting closer and closer to them. Sam looked at her and jerked his head over to the railing. Hannah shook her head, but with the Impala gaining on them, Hannah whimpered and ran over to the railing. She screamed as she dove over the railing.

Before she landed in the water, she saw Dean falling as well. _Dean_, she thought, putting his arm over her shoulders. The water was thick with mud as she swam to the shore, dragging Dean with her. They crawled out of the water, Dean coughing while Hannah spitting out mud.

"Thanks," she heard Dean say between coughs.

"No problem," Hannah said then groaned. "I feel disgusting."

He stared at her, his green eyes popping out against the mud covering his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sam's voice came out instead.

"Dean! Hannah!" called Sam from above.

"What?" Dean shouted, annoyed.

"Hey! Are you guys alright?"

"I'm super. What about you, Hannah?" Dean answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Hannah let out a shaky laugh. "I've had better."

Dean snorted and staggered to his feet. Hannah shivered as she stood, hating how filthy she felt. The walk to the car had been quiet with the exception of Dean grumbling about how he was going to "gank that Constance bitch."

She laughed lightly when Dean sprinted over to his car to inspect it. Sam arrived a couple minutes later.

"I'm so sorry," Sam said, referring to the mud.

"Better than getting ran over," Hannah replied, smiling at him. "I reek, don't I?"

He nodded, and they chuckled. Dean slammed the hood of the Impala down and leaned against it. Sam slowly approached his brother while Hannah followed.

"Your car all right?" he inquired.

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now," Dean said, crossing his arms. "That Constance chick, what a _bitch_!"

Hannah elbowed Dean as she leaned against the hood. "I told you we needed a plan. Now look at us!"

"Hannah's right," Sam agreed, settling on the next on the other side of Dean. "She doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure. So where's the job from here, genius?"

Dean threw his arms up in frustration, flicking mud at Hannah who flinched away.

"The article said she was married, right?" Hannah asked Sam.

"Yeah."

"We could talk to the husband."

"What, you mean right now?" Dean asked her in disbelief.

"Dean, you smell like a toilet," Sam remarked. He hurry blocked the driver's seat from Dean. "Whoa, hey! Do you really want to mess up the interior of your car?"

"It'll already be messed up now move, Sammy," Dean growled.

"Just let him drive, Dean," Hannah urged, pushing herself off the hood. "We'll clean it tomorrow. Now can we just go to a motel? We're giving Oscar the Grouch a run for his money."

He must have been too tired to argue because he handed Sam the keys without a fight.

* * *

><p>"One room, please," Dean told the clerk at the front desk of the lobby.<p>

The clerk studied the three of them dubiously. Hannah was certain he wondering why in the world she and Dean covered from head to two in dirt while Sam stood behind them awkwardly.

"You three having a reunion or something?" the clerk asked while looking at Dean's Mastercard.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked him.

"I had another guy, Burt Aframin. He came and bought out a room for the whole month," explained the clerk.

He handed Dean back the Mastercard and the three trudged to their motel room.

"Hey, I'm going to get changed. When you two are done checking out your dad's room, do you mind bringing me my clothes from the car?" Hannah asked, eager to rid herself of the dry mud on her.

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, nodding distractedly as he picked the lock.

"Yes, Dean?" Hannah raised an eyebrow at Dean who stared at her with an inscrutable expression.

Dean blinked then shook his head, waving a dismissive hand at her. _Weird,_ she thought then shrugged it off. Hannah unlocked their room door and made a beeline for the bathroom, locking it behind her and stripping immediately.

The shower took nearly an hour since the dirt had dried on her by the time they reached the motel. Hannah hummed Britney Spears' _I'm a Slave 4 U_ as she lathered conditioner into her hair. Steam shrouded the inside of the bathroom when she finally turned off the shower.

Her porcelain skin was tinged with pink from the hot water. Her eyes dropped to the anti-possession symbol tattooed on her hip. She had gotten the tattoo when she was seventeen. Wrapping a towel securely around her body after drying herself with it, Hannah squeezed water from her hair over the sink before tentatively opening the door. She frowned when she realized the boys hadn't returned from John's room yet. The last thing Hannah wanted was for Dean to just walk in here and see her half na—

The door swung open, and Dean strolled in fresh as a daisy. Sam followed closely behind, carrying Hannah's duffel bag. Dean froze at the sight of her, his jaw going slack. An awkward silence fell over them. Without hesitation, Hannah grabbed the duffel bag with one hand and dashed into the bathroom.

"Thanks!" she called as she slammed the door behind her. "Oh my God."

That was so embarrassing! Why did he have to come in first? Hannah bit back a pout as she rummaged through her duffel bag for some clothes. _Why am I embarrassed anyway? I used to be a swimmer, I've showed more skin than I was showing out there_, Hannah wondered. Maybe it was just being half naked in front of Dean, the sluttiness guy she knew, that made her feel so self-conscious.

After changing into a black knit cami, a long oversized, slouchy burgundy open cardigan, and dark washed skinny jeans, Hannah shyly opened the bathroom door.

"Did you guys find anything?" Hannah asked, setting her duffel bag down on the foot of one of the two beds.

"Well, we found out that Constance is a woman in white," Sam answered, looking at her. "All her victims are cheaters."

"If John was here, wouldn't he have destroyed her corpse?" Hannah questioned.

"That's what I said," Dean said.

Hannah adjusted her hamsa amulet. "Looks like we'll have to talk to her husband."

"Yeah, before we do, uh, I'm gonna grab a bite to eat in that diner across the street. You guys want anything?" Dean said, getting up from the edge of the bed.

"Nothing for me," Sam declined, shaking his head.

"Strawberry milkshake, please!" Hannah said, smiling at him.

Dean looked like he wanted to laugh at her. "You are such a kid."

He left the motel room, and not long after that did Sam's phone ring. Hannah watched him, noticing the confusion drawn on his face. She followed him as he went over to the window. She let out a small gasp when she saw Dean get apprehended by the police. Dean fidgeted and glanced in their direction. Hannah swallowed thickly and darted away from the window when the sheriff jerked his thumb at their motel room.

"Come on," Sam urged, leading Hannah away. "Dean says to find Dad without him. We'll bail him out later."

Reluctantly, Hannah climbed out of the bathroom window after Sam, pouting the entire time. It wasn't until they were in the Impala did he finally ask.

"Dean's going to be fine, Han," Sam assured her.

"It's not him. I just really wanted a milkshake," Hannah mumbled petulantly.

Sam stared at her then laughed.

* * *

><p>"You sure you got this?" Sam asked her for the tenth time.<p>

"Uh-huh." Hannah nodded, squaring her shoulders. "Watch and learn, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he insisted.

Knocking on the door, Hannah's expression shifted into something more steadfast. She just wanted to put Constance to rest. The door opened revealing an old man.

"Hi, are you Joseph Welch?" Hannah asked.

"Yeah," he said, stepping out.

Hannah stuck her hand out, smiling warmly. "My name is Rebecca and this is my co-worker Jared. We're reporters and we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions?"

Joseph shook Hannah's hand slowly. He shrugged and the three began walking together at a slow pace. Sam shot Hannah an astonished glance before handing Joseph a picture of John.

"You two are working with that other man, right? He came by three or four days ago," Joseph said, staring at the picture Sam gave him. "Yeah, he was older, but that's him."

"That's right. We're working on a story together," Sam said, fibbing easily.

"Well, I don't know what the hell kind of story you're working on. The questions he asked me..."

"About your wife Constance?"

"He asked me where she was buried," Joseph said, baffled.

"And where is that again?" Sam asked.

"If you don't mind us asking," Hannah quickly added. "It's just fact-checking."

Joseph sighed. "In a plot. Behind my old place over on Breckenridge."

"And why did you move?" Sam inquired.

"I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died," Joseph said mournfully. Hannah's heart grew heavy just from the grief in his voice.

Sam glanced at her then stopped walking altogether. Hannah and Joseph paused as well.

"Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?" he asked.

"No way," Joseph answered. "Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known."

_But not pretty enough to stay loyal to_, Hannah thought, remembering that he was a cheater. "It was a happy marriage, then?"

There was a hesitant pause. Hannah knew they had their answer then.

"Definitely," he said eventually.

"Well, that should do it," Hannah said, smiling politely at Joseph. "Thank you for your time."

She was near the Impala when she heard Sam speak. "Mr. Welch, have you ever heard of a woman in white?"

Her eyes widened. What was he _doing_? Joseph looked at Sam with a blank expression on his face.

"It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really," Sam elaborated. It dawned on Hannah what he was trying to do.

"Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women..." Hannah explained, starting towards Joseph.

"You understand," Sam murmured. "But they all share the same story."

"I don't care for much nonsense," Joseph said, scowling. He turned and walked away, but Hannah and Sam followed.

"See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them," Sam continued, "and these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children."

Joseph stopped walking, and whirled to face them.

"Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways," Sam listed.

"And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again," Hannah finished, hoping the last part didn't sound too eerie. Unfortunately, it did because the old man was glaring at them darkly, but his lips quivered. Was he afraid to believe what they were telling him?

"You think... you think that has something to do with... Constance, you smartass!" he snapped.

"You tell us," Sam responded calmly.

"I mean, maybe... maybe I made some mistakes, but no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own _children_. Now, you two get the hell out of here, and don't come back!"

He shook with anger, turning away from them. Hannah tugged at Sam's jacket, leading him back to the Impala.

"You did great," Sam told her, smiling gently.

Hannah beamed. "Thanks! My next role will be an FBI agent," she said, earning a small laugh from Sam. "I almost forgot about Dean! How are we...?"

"I got this one," Sam said, already pulling out his phone.

* * *

><p>After much bugging, Hannah managed to convince Sam to let her drive the Impala to the abandoned house on Breckenridge road.<p>

Dean called by the time the sky had darkened. "_Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal_."

"Your welcome," Hannah said as Sam put the phone on speaker. She and Sam shared a grin.

"You're on speaker," Sam informed him.

"_Listen, we gotta talk_."

"Tell me about it. So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white," Hannah updated, practically bouncing in the driver's seat.

"And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop," Sam added, grinning at her.

"_Would you guys shut up for a second?_"

"I just can't figure out why John hasn't destroyed the corpse yet," Hannah pondered aloud.

"_Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you guys. He's gone. Dad left Jerich_o," Dean revealed.

"What? How do you know that?" Sam asked, creasing his brows.

"I've got his journal."

Sam looked at Hannah, frowning. "He doesn't go anywhere without that thing."

"_Yeah, well, he did this time_."

"What does it say?" Hannah inquired, keeping her eyes on the road.

"_Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap when he wants to let us know where he's going_," Dean answered, sounding flummoxed with the whole situation.

"Coordinates? Where to?" Hannah asked.

"_I'm not sure._"

"I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job? Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam said, worry coloring his voice.

Hannah screamed when she noticed a woman standing in the middle of the road. She slammed the brake, bringing the car to a screeching halt as it slowed down right through the woman. Sam dropped his phone to the ground, looking around wildly. The only sounds Hannah could hear was her and Sam's heavy breathing. She looked in the rearview mirror and gasped. Constance sat in the back seat, glaring at her.

"Take me home," she demanded. Hannah didn't move, only meeting Sam's anxious green eyes. "Take me home!"

"No," Sam said firmly.

The doors locked themselves shut. Hannah tried to reopen hers while Sam did the same, but they stayed shut.

"Don't move, Hannah," Sam commanded. The gas pedal pressed down and the car started to drive by itself. "I said don't move!"

"I'm not! It's her!" Hannah gestured to the ghost in the back. She tried to steer the wheel, but to no avail. "Constance, you don't have to do this."

She ignored them and drove the car faster until they pulled up in front of the abandoned house. The engine shut off, and the darkness surrounded them. Hannah's heart beat so loudly that she was sure Constance could hear it.

"I can never go home," murmured Constance.

"You're scared to go home," Sam figured.

Hannah glanced at the rearview mirror, noticing that Constance was gone. She reappeared, straddling Sam. He struggled as Constance shoved him back so hard that the seat reclined. _Iron. I need iron_, thought Hannah, trying not to panic. She needed to get to the trunk, but the doors were still locked.

"Hold me. I'm so cold," Constance breathed seductively, pressing her body against his.

"You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful! I've never been!" Sam stated, still resisting her.

"You will be. Just hold me." She grabbed Sam's face and kissed him forcefully. Hannah leaned back in her seat and kicked Constance in her side, knocking her against the window.

Her face flickered, and Hannah widened her eyes. For the briefest of moments, Hannah saw Constance's true visage. Before Constance could attack her, gunshots went off shattering the window on Sam's side. Constance vanished a couple times.

_Time to take her home_, thought Hannah, determined to end this before Sam got even more hurt. Hannah turned on the engine and smashed the Impala through the side of the house. She smacked her face against the wheel, and a searing pain blinded her for a moment.

"Sam! Hannah! You guys okay?" Dean's voice sounded distant.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but Hannah forced out a feeble yes. She heard the driver's door open and arms around her, hoisting her out of the car.

"Sam?" Hannah called out weakly.

"I'm good, Hannah. I just need help getting out," Sam assured her, coughing.

"Hey." Hannah looked up, the dizziness subsiding. Dean stared at her, concern plain on his freckled face. "Ouch. You're bleeding, Princess."

Hannah touched her forehead gingerly and felt something sticky. "I'm not... I'm not your princess," she mumbled. She steadied herself against the car. "Go help Sam."

"I'm surprised you didn't get knocked out," Dean said, letting her go to help his brother.

"My cranium is like titanium," Hannah joked then winced. She hoped she wasn't concussed. Her eyes went to Constance, watching as she picked up a framed picture. "Guys?"

Constance looked at them then sent a dresser at the boys, pinning them against the Impala. Hannah moved quickly, ignoring the pain in her head. She reached for Dean's fallen gun, but stopped when the lights flickered. Water cascaded down the stairs. Constance stopped, fearful but she glided over to the bottom of the staircase. At the top, were a boy and a girl holding hands.

"You've come home to us, Mommy," they said in unison.

The woman in white was distraught, the guilt finally overwhelming her. The children faded then flickered behind her. They embraced her tightly, and Constance threw her head back as she wailed, an agonizing sound to Hannah's ears. In a surge of energy, Constance's screaming form and her two children began to dissolve, melting into a puddle into the floor.

Hannah winced when she heard Sam and Dean move the dresser away from them. Dean went over to the spot where Constance vanished.

"So this is where she drowned her kids," he said.

"That's why she could never go home. She was too scared of them," Hannah put together. _Poor woman_, she thought, but at least the highway murders would end.

"You found her weak spot. Nice work." Dean pounded his fist on Sam's chest as he walked past him. Sam laughed, but his chuckling waned into a groan.

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you," Sam said after getting over the pain. "What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"Hey, saved your asses," Dean pointed out. He pointed at Hannah. "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car? I'll kill you."

Hannah tilted her head back laughing while Sam grinned.

* * *

><p>"Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado," Sam told them.<p>

"Sounds charming," quipped Dean from the driver's seat.

"How far?" Hannah asked, giggling at Dean. She kept an ice pack on her forehead, buying one from a convenience store on the way back from the abandoned house.

"About six hundred miles," Sam answered, looking in the backseat. He smiled sympathetically when he saw her pout.

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning," Dean said.

It was like the wind was knocked out of Hannah, her smile diminishing the longer Sam hesitated. How had she forgotten Sam's interview? The three together, it felt like old times, but Hannah swallowed back her disappointment. She wouldn't interfere with Sam's happiness.

"Dean, I, um..." Sam couldn't get the words out.

"You're not going." Dean sounded like he knew the answer.

"The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there," Sam reminded him.

Dean nodded, turning his attention back to the road. Hannah frowned, wishing she could cheer him up, but knew better than to do it at that moment. Dean seemed more tolerable of her when it was just the two of them. After all, he didn't even want her dad or Sam to see him give her the hamsa amulet for her eleventh birthday.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home," Dean told him. Sam glanced at Hannah before turning off the flashlight.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence. Finally, they reached Sam's apartment. Hannah watched unhappily as Sam got out, listening as he opened the trunk for his duffel bag then closing it shut. She leaned forward when he returned to look through the window.

"Call me if you find him?"

"Of course," Hannah promised.

"And maybe I could meet up with you guys later, huh?" Sam suggested.

"Yeah, all right," Dean said, emotion threatening to reveal itself in his voice.

"Bye, Sam," Hannah said, smiling softly.

Sam nodded then turned to head inside, but Dean called him back.

"You know, we made a hell of a team back there," Dean said, putting one arm over the back of the passenger seat.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, almost regretfully.

Dean turned the keys in the ignition and drove off. Hesitantly, Hannah touched Dean's arm. He glanced at her, his eyes guarded.

"What?" he asked flatly.

"Dean, I know you miss him and it's okay that you do." She squeezed his arm gently. "You don't have to do this alone. I mean, no one should."

He didn't say anything. Hannah was about to let go of him and settle back when he finally spoke.

"Why didn't you do what he did?" he questioned.

"Huh?"

"On the bridge, Sam said you went to one of the prestigious universities here in the U.S. Why aren't you living some apple-pie life like him?"

She wasn't expecting him to ask her that. Hannah wet her lips, wondering how she could explain her reasoning in the most articulate way.

"Because living the apple-pie life isn't for me," Hannah said softly. "Didn't you feel weird going to school knowing what you know while everyone else was completely oblivious? I did and I still do. I just _can't_ pretend that there are no demons around, and I can't know everything I do without helping people. So that's why I'm not living some apple-pie life, Dean."

Dean glanced at her from the rearview mirror. He pulled the car over on the side of the street and turned around to face her.

"Hunting is a thankless job, Hannah," he said, somber. "The law is not on our side. People think we're devil-worshipers. This thing we do? It's not fun."

"Most jobs aren't," Hannah countered. "I want to help people yet you and Daddy act so overprotective of me. Do you think I'm not capable of taking care of myself?"

"No," Dean answered at once. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?" she urged, eager to hear.

"You're just so... nice," he said lamely.

Hannah burst out laughing, but swiftly covered it up with a rather unconvincing cough. Dean scowled at her.

"You done?" he asked her. "It may sound silly—"

"It does," Hannah interjected.

"But kindness is a weakness. Monsters will exploit that. Do you remember the vampire case?" Dean explained.

"I try not to," she murmured.

He smirked, but then his face softened as he continued. "I know it was your first case, but that shit was not acceptable, Hannah. Bobby's only trying to protect you, Princess. He doesn't want you to see the horrors of hunting." He hesitated before adding, "I don't either."

"Dean..." Hannah smiled widely and threw her arms around his neck, unsurprised when he stiffened from her touch. "You're going to make me cry!"

"Why?" Dean patted the back of her head awkwardly before wiggling out of her hug.

"It's just, I didn't realize you cared about me this much!" Hannah pretended to dab invisible tears away from her eyes.

"Ugh." Dean rolled his eyes as he turned back to the wheel. "I always say no chickflick movies and look what I did."

He was about to turn the key in the ignition when he paused. "What is it?" Hannah asked.

"I don't know, it's just a... a gut feeling. Maybe we should go back," Dean suggested, glancing back at her.

"To Sam?"

Dean nodded.

Hannah gestured for him to drive and he obliged. She chewed her lower lip, wondering if Sam was in trouble. Dean had a knack for knowing when someone was in trouble. By the time they reached Sam's apartment, they noticed smoke coming from the window.

They rushed out of the Impala and ran upstairs to his apartment. Dean kicked the door down, yelling for Sam. Hannah noticed that the fire was coming from the bedroom. She covered her mouth with her arm, coughing as she went over to Sam.

She gasped when she looked up at the ceiling. Jess was pinned there and her entire body was consumed by flames.

"Sam, come on!" Hannah shouted, grabbing him.

"No! No!" Sam screamed, still struggling as Dean pushed him out the door. Hannah followed closely behind, tears pricking her eyes from the sound of Sam's cries.

As soon as they escaped, the apartment was engulfed by flames. Sam stopped fighting, and he let out a choked sob. He collapsed to the ground, muttering Jess's name over and over again. Hannah sat down next to him and pulled him into her arms. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as he cried in her neck.

Hannah rubbed his back soothingly, silent. There was nothing she could say at the moment that could comfort him.

The fire department arrived, and after a while, Sam's weeping stopped. He let go of Hannah and stood up abruptly. Hannah watched from the ground as he opened the trunk to the Impala, widening her eyes when he began loading a shotgun. She exchanged a worried look with Dean.

Sighing, Sam put the shotgun back in the trunk then slammed it shut.

"We got work to do."

She wasn't sure if her goosebumps were from the death of Sam's girlfriend or the ominous words.


	3. Wendigo

**Author's Note: **Hannah's face claim is on my page if anyone wants to check that out.

I'd like to thank _J3VF_, _bjq,_ and _RebornRose1992 _for the awesome reviews. Also, thanks to _J3VF_, _Littlebowpeep_, _Littlemissdith_, _NikkiReedfan_, _RisingPhoenix89_, _RebornRose1992, __KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl, kiari-namiro, __bookwormultimate_, _pyroclasticfloww_, _StudyInBlack, __Friggatriskaidekaphobia_, and _sobreyra274_ for following, and _BGio89_, _Littlebowpeep_, _sobreya2745_, _KeepCalmAndDoItLikeAFanGirl_, _StudyInBlack, _and _Yovillelova_ for favoriting!

Enjoy the chapter and please feel free to review!

* * *

><p><strong>2.<strong>

**Wendigo**

The car ride to Blackwater Ridge was silent with the exception of the radio playing inside the Impala. Hannah was able to tune it out as she read Jane Austen's _Emma_ in the backseat. She smiled to herself, amused at the main character's antics.

Hannah was about to turn the page when Sam flinched awake, alarming both her and Dean. She and Dean locked eyes through the rearview mirror, concern subtle on his features.

"Are you okay?" asked Hannah gently.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Sam said, giving her a smile that told her not to worry.

_Liar_, she thought as she saved her page. Ever since Jessica died, Sam had awful nightmares. No matter how much Hannah pestered him, he refused to talk about it. Dean claimed that Sam was the "sensitive" one, but that was untrue. Neither of them were open about their feelings.

"You want to drive for a while?" Dean asked then narrowed his eyes at Hannah who tried to smother a startled laugh. "What's so funny?"

"Dean, in your whole life, you've never once asked me that," Sam said, chuckling. When Dean glanced at Hannah, she hid her smile behind her book.

His eyes went back to the road. "Just thought you might want to. Never mind," Dean replied defensively.

"You should drive, Sam," encouraged Hannah. "I find it relaxing."

"The last time you drove, you crashed my Baby into a house," pointed out Dean. Hannah rolled her blue eyes at the reminder. He was still sour over that, but she had only been trying to save Sam.

"Look, guys, you're worried about me. I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay," Sam responded, sounding bothered by their concern.

"Mm-hm," Dean and Hannah hummed, both doubtful.

Did Sam think they were idiots? Hannah actually found the implication offensive. No sane person would be "perfectly okay" after witnessing their lover of two years burn to death. Even worse, it was the same way his mother died. Hannah was certain she would be a crying mess if she were in Sam's position.

Eager to change the subject, Sam asked for the map. Hannah handed it to him and watched as he unfolded it. She informed them that they were just outside of Grand Junction.

"You know what?" started Sam, setting down the map. "Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon."

"Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you want to find the thing that killed Jessica—"

"We got to find Dad first," Sam interjected. There was a steely edge to his voice that worried Hannah.

"It can't be a coincidence," she murmured, tucking loose strands of brown hair behind her ear.

"No, it can't," Dean agreed solemnly. "Dad will have answers. He'll know what to do."

"It's weird," Sam spoke up. He shook his head, bemused. "These coordinates he left us, this Blackwater Ridge..."

"What about them?" Dean questioned, glancing at him.

"There's nothing there," he answered, putting down the map. "It's just woods. Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?"

Hannah looked out the window and saw a National Forest sign that said, "Welcome to Lost Creek Colorado National Forest." She frowned, knowing that whatever was in the woods was not going to be an easy task for the three of them.

* * *

><p>Sam and Hannah studied the small 3D model sitting on a table in the middle of the room they were in.<p>

"So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote. It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver, and..." Sam frowned when he noticed Dean paying more attention to the decorations than the information he listed. "And Dean's not listening."

"Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear," Dean said, awe coloring his voice.

"And a dozen or more grizzlies in the area," Sam informed them. "It's no nature hike, that's for sure."

Hannah drifted over to where Sam and Dean stood, looking at the framed picture of a man standing behind a huge bear. She nibbled on her lower lip, hoping they wouldn't encounter any grizzlies.

She yelped when Dean pawed at her back, making ridiculous bear noises. She wiggled away from him, swatting his hands away. He karate chopped her wrists and the two continued to hit each other until someone cleared their throat.

"You three aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" inquired a man dressed in a ranger's uniform.

"Oh no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder," Hannah hurriedly said, smiling sheepishly.

"We're working on a paper," added Sam then coughed. Dean and Hannah were still in mid-play-fight. Dean let go of Hannah's wrists and raised his fist.

"Recycle, man," Dean said lamely.

"Bull," the ranger called out. Hannah's eyes flickered to the boys, her whole body tense. "You're friends with that Haley girl, right?"

"Yes," Dean answered after considering whether he should lie. "Yes we are, Ranger..." He read the nametag. "Wilkinson."

"Well, I'll tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it? You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine."

"We will," Hannah promised.

"Well, that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?" Dean commented.

"That is putting it mildly," concurred Ranger Wilkinson.

"Actually, it would help if we could show her a copy of that permit," Dean said, making the ranger pause on his way back to his office. "You know, so she could see her brother's return date."

Hannah suppressed a smile as Ranger Wilkinson and Dean stared each other down. Finally, the ranger told them to wait there as he went to make a copy of the permit. As soon as he left, Hannah karate chopped Dean in the stomach.

He glared at her and was about to grab at her, but the ranger returned and Dean took the permit. As they walked out of the station, Dean held the permit up and laughed.

"What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?" Sam asked his brother.

"No hookups!" Hannah exclaimed. "We have to stay focused. No hanky-panky on the job."

"Why are you looking at _me _while you say this?" Dean questioned, narrowing his eyes at her.

"It applies to all of us," Hannah replied breezily. "But _you _are, um, how can I put this delicately? A slut? Yeah, you're a slut, Dean."

Dean gaped at her as she climbed in the backseat. He looked up at Sam who had an amused expression on his face.

"Can you believe her?" he asked. Sam shrugged and got inside the passenger seat. Rolling his eyes, Dean slid inside the driver's seat.

* * *

><p>Smoothing down her long-sleeved lilac dolman top tucked into a black skirt, Hannah waited for Haley Collins to answer the door. She hoped her attire didn't deter the girl from believing that they were park rangers.<p>

"You must be Haley Collins," Dean said as Haley opened the door, but left the screen door shut. "I'm Dean, this is Hannah, and this is Sam. We're, ah, rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy."

"Let me see some ID," Haley said, hesitant.

Dean fished out his fake ID from his pocket then pressed it against the screen door. She examined it then looked at Dean. He smiled. Haley opened the screen door and stepped aside to let them in.

"That yours?" Haley asked, catching sight of the Impala.

"Yeah," Dean replied, standing up a little straighter.

"Nice car," Haley said as she led them through the house. Dean glanced in Haley's direction and grinned. Hannah shook her head and mouthed, "_No hanky-panky_." He rolled his eyes in response.

"So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?" Sam inquired when they settled in the kitchen.

"He checks in every day by cell," Haley replied as she placed a bowl on the table. "He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now."

"Well, maybe he can't get cell reception," Hannah suggested. That could be a practical reason as to why Tommy hadn't called his sister.

"He's got a satellite phone, too," Haley frowned.

"Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?" Dean considered.

Haley's younger brother slammed his fork and knife down on the table, making Hannah jump.

"He wouldn't do that," he told them firmly. He turned away, uncomfortable when Dean looked at him.

"Our parents are gone," Haley explained. "It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other."

"You mentioned he sent you pictures. Do you mind showing us?" Hannah asked.

"Yeah." Haley nodded and went over to her computer. Hannah and the boys followed her and stood behind her as she found the pictures. "That's Tommy."

She clicked on a video of her brother inside his tent. "_Hey, Haley. Day six. We're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow_."

Hannah held her breath when she saw a shadow move in the background of the video. She was certain Sam noticed the quick movement, but didn't know about Dean who was more focused on Haley than the video.

"Well, we'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing," Dean said, trying to assure her that they'd deal with her missing brother.

"Then maybe I'll see you there." _What? _Hannah thought in her head, surprised. "Look, I can't sit around here anymore, so I hired a guide. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm going to find Tommy myself."

This was going to be a disaster and Hannah just knew that. They couldn't have Haley tagging along on their hunt. It was just too dangerous, especially if this creature had possibly killed Tommy. There was also Dean who would probably disregard Hannah's warnings and sleep with Haley.

"I think I know how you feel." Hannah refrained from rolling her eyes at Dean's attempts at being comforting. Why couldn't he just keep it in his pants and focus on the case?

"Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?" Sam asked Haley.

"Sure." Haley shrugged and the two exchanged emails.

As they left the Collins house, Dean blocked Hannah from getting inside the Impala.

"Princess," he started, grinning as she begun to frown. "There's no need for jealousy."

"_What_?" Hannah widened her eyes. "You think that _I'm _jealous?"

Dean shrugged. "You looked so mad in there when I was talking to Haley. I was just trying to ease her worries."

Hannah made an indignant sound. "First off, I am _not_ your princess. Secondly, I am not jealous. Why would I be jealous of _you_?"

"Who knows? Maybe you're secretly into me and that's why you made up this stupid rule of 'no hanky-panky' on the job. And who says that anymore? Hanky-panky, are we in the fifties?"

"I am _so _not into you."

"You say that, but I bet you fantasize about me."

"I don't fantasize about _anybody_!"

Hannah tried to ignore the heat rushing to her face. He could be such a jerk sometimes. She pushed him away and climbed into the backseat of the Impala, boiling even more when she heard Dean laugh.

* * *

><p>Bars were not places Hannah frequented. She was of legal age to drink, but she rarely drank alcohol. She disliked beer, finding it too boring and bitter. The drinks she would actually consume were the Singapore Sling, Screwdriver, and Sea Breeze.<p>

Dean, being the macho man he was, ordered two beers for him and Sam. Hannah was initially going to decline getting something to drink, but somehow ended up nursing a Singapore Sling as they studied the folder she and Sam put together.

"So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic," Sam told them. "Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found."

"Any before that?" Dean asked before taking a swig from his beer.

"Yes." Hannah pulled out a newspaper article. "In 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack. It also happened in 1959, and again before that in 1936. I'm no expert on bears, but I'm pretty sure they don't attack every twenty-three years."

"Okay, watch this," Sam said as he opened his laptop. "I downloaded that guy Tommy's video to the laptop. Check this out."

Sam went through through the three frames. A shadow crossed the screen. Dean gestured for Sam to do it again. He did it a second time, only this time slower.

"That's three frames. That's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move," Sam remarked.

Dean hit Sam then poked Hannah in her ribs. She jumped and glared at him. He knew that she was ticklish there.

"Told you guys something weird was going on," Dean said triumphantly.

"There's more," Hannah said, showing them another newspaper. "In 'fifty-nine, one camper survived this supposed 'grizzly attack.' He was just a child, barely crawling out of the woods alive."

"Is there a name?" Dean asked her.

"Yes!" Hannah answered a bit too loudly. "Sorry. I think I'm buzzed."

"I've never seen you drunk before," Dean reflected. He pushed her drink closer to her.

"And you never will," Hannah replied, pushing back the drink. She stood up slowly, gathering her things. "Come on. I'll tell you guys on the way there."

* * *

><p>After showing the old man their badges, Mr. Shaw led them inside his house as he put a cigarette between his teeth.<p>

"Look, ranger, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a—"

"Grizzly?" Sam interrupted, dubious. "That's what attacked them?"

Mr. Shaw took a drag of his cigarette. After some hesitation, he nodded.

"The other people that went missing that year. Those bear attacks too?" Dean questioned. When Mr. Shaw didn't answer, Dean continued. "What about all the people that went missing this year? Is that the same thing?"

"If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it," Hannah added.

There was a ghost of a smile on the old man's lips. "I seriously doubt that," he said as he sat down. "Anyways, I don't see what difference that would make. You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did."

Hannah took a seat across from him. "Mr. Shaw, what did you see?" she asked gently.

"Nothing," he answered then visibly winced, as if it pained him to speak about it. Hannah frowned, knowing that they were bringing up horrible memories for him. "It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar. Like... no man or animal I ever heard."

"It came at night?" Sam asked. Mr. Shaw nodded. "It got inside your tent?"

"It got inside our _cabin_," he said much to Hannah's shock. She met Dean's eyes briefly before listening to Mr. Shaw. "I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming."

She let this new information sink in. It eliminated all the other things she and the boys had in mind. _A creature with incredible speed that can unlock doors and doesn't sound human. It sounds familiar but I can't put my finger on it_, pondered Hannah.

"It killed them?" Sam asked, snapping Hannah out of her thoughts.

"Dragged them off into the night," Mr. Shaw replied, shaking his head. "Why it left me alive... been asking myself that ever since. Did leave me this, though."

He grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it down, revealing three long scars that looked like something clawed at him. Hannah paled just from the sight of them.

"There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of demon," Mr. Shaw murmured, almost to himself.

"Thank you, Mr. Shaw," Hannah said, smiling softly. It wasn't until they were outside of the old man's home did she speak. "Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors if they want inside. They just go through the walls."

"That's what I was thinking," Dean said. He opened the trunk to the Impala then propped open the false bottom with a shotgun. Hannah picked up a pistol, feeling the weight of it in her hand.

"So it's probably something else, something corporeal," Sam said. He frowned at the handgun in Hannah's hand.

"Corporeal? Excuse me, professor," joked Dean. Hannah giggled while Sam rolled his eyes.

"Shut up," retorted Sam. "So, have any ideas?"

"The claws, the speed that it moves... could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's corporeal. Which means we can kill it," Dean answered as he put some weapons in a duffel bag. "Give me that."

"Bam." Hannah pretended to shoot him then blew invisible smoke away from the barrel. Dean snorted and took it from her.

"We can't let that Haley girl go out there," Sam stated. Hannah nodded in agreement.

"Oh yeah?" Dean turned to them. "What are we going to tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?"

"No, but we can't have a bigger body count," Hannah pointed out. "You heard that old man in there. Whatever is out there, it's unsafe for anyone other than hunters to be around."

"Her brother is missing." Dean sounded annoyed. "She's not gonna just sit this out. Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend."

"Finding Dad is not enough?" Sam demanded. He slammed the weapon's box shut then the trunk after Dean took the duffel bag out. "Now we got to babysit, too?"

Hannah raised her eyebrows at him. Jessica's death really took a toll on Sam, turning him into some willful, revenge-seeking hunter. It reminded her of John Winchester. She wasn't close to the man like how she was with his sons, but she could see how consumed he was with avenging Mary's death.

She hoped Sam didn't turn out the same way.

* * *

><p>Staying in motels had always been an awkward process for Hannah. The first time she, Sam, and Dean stayed in one, they spent ten minutes arguing about who would take one of the queen beds and the couch.<p>

Sam was more of a gentleman than Dean, so he offered Hannah one of the queens. Then Hannah felt bad because she was sure the couch felt uncomfortable to sleep on, so _she _offered to sleep on the couch. Dean pointed out that Sam's legs were too long for the couch so he claimed it.

In the end, no one ended up on the couch.

When Hannah woke, she noticed that Sam wasn't near her. Rubbing her groggy eyes, Hannah used her elbow to prop herself up. Rousing herself out of bed, Hannah walked to the bathroom, still half asleep. The bathroom door was locked, and Hannah knocked on it lightly. Dean was still sleeping, one leg sticking out from his sheets, so Sam must have been in the bathroom.

"Sam?" she croaked then cleared her throat. "Are you okay in there?"

"I'm fine," he called from inside. His voice trembled as he spoke, and Hannah frowned. "I'll be out in a minute."

Hannah took a step back from the door and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed. She turned and looked at him. He looked so... vulnerable, so unlike the cocky person he usually was. Hannah touched his shoulder and shook him gently.

He groaned and shifted on his side. Hannah shook him again and when he lifted his head, squinting at her, she lost her breath. Boys always looked so alluring when they first woke up, but Hannah was sure her hair resembled a rat's nest and her lips were chapped.

Before Hannah could say anything, she heard the bathroom door open.

"We have to get ready," she murmured, getting off the bed.

"Right," mumbled Dean. He followed her into the bathroom where they brushed their teeth beside each other.

"I'm worried about Sam," whispered Hannah after she spat out her toothpaste.

Dean ducked his head to spit out his toothpaste. "So am I."

"He's becoming reckless."

"I know."

Hannah swished some water around in her mouth before spitting it out in the sink. "Dean, what are we going to do?"

"Nothing," he answered, turning off the sink. He paused on his way out the door when Hannah grabbed his arm. "Give him some space. He'll talk about it when he wants to."

"And if he doesn't?" Hannah questioned, locking eyes with him.

"Then we'll just let it go," Dean replied then glanced at the shower. "Now do you want to shower first or should I?"

"I will." Hannah pushed past him to retrieve her things. Why were boys so frustrating? Why did they insist on _not _talking about their feelings?

She showered for twenty minutes then changed into some appropriate hiking clothes: an olive green t-shirt, black yoga pants, and a heathered pullover hoodie. Hannah stepped out of the bathroom and gestured for Dean to go in.

"All yours," she said with a smile.

As Dean walked past her, she noticed his gaze roaming her figure before shutting the door behind him. Hannah grabbed her hamsa amulet from the dresser and clasped the chain around her neck.

Sam was sitting on the couch, studying the folder filled with information about their case. Hannah plopped down beside him.

"You look ready to hike," Sam commented, looking up from his folder.

"We have to look the part as, you know, rangers," Hannah said as she slipped on some socks then tennis shoes. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Okay," Sam said, laughing a little.

"I mean it." The seriousness in her voice made Sam's laughter die down.

"Hannah, I'm fine," Sam insisted with a smile. It didn't reach his eyes, though.

She was about to say something when Dean opened the bathroom door dressed in only his jeans and an amulet around his neck. Hannah felt her jaw go slack, but she hastily closed her mouth.

Hannah didn't need Dean convinced that she actually had a thing for him because she _so _didn't.

* * *

><p>"Great," she heard Sam mutter as they pulled up in front of the forest where Haley and her brother stood with their guide.<p>

"Remember, Dean. No—"

"Hanky-panky. You said that for the fifteenth time," Dean interrupted, turning around in his seat to give her a sardonic smile. "Like I'd get it on in the woods."

"Don't get it on anywhere," Hannah said, smiling back.

He rolled his eyes and stepped out of the Impala. As Hannah climbed out, she heard the trunk slam shut.

"You guys got room for three more?" Dean asked Haley, grinning.

"Wait, you want to come with us?" Haley asked, her voice laced with incredulity.

Sam hit Hannah with the duffel bag as he walked past her. She stumbled, and the guide caught her arm.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly.

"No problem, miss..." The guide gave her an appreciative once-over.

"I'm Hannah," she introduced, smiling broadly. "That's Dean and that's Sam. We're park rangers."

"Uh-huh." The guide stared at her and the boys warily. "_You're_ rangers?"

"That's right," Dean called from behind Hannah.

"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Haley chided Dean. Hannah burst out laughing, but quickly covered it up with a cough. She could feel Dean glaring daggers at her.

"Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts," Dean retorted then poked Hannah's ribs as he head past her. Her jaw tightened, finding Dean's behavior annoying.

The guide looked agitated with Dean. "What, you think this is funny? It's dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt."

Sam and Dean both paused. Hannah walked over to them, glancing behind her at Haley and her brother.

"Believe me, I know how dangerous it can be. We just want to help them find their brother, that's all," Dean said lightly, completely unperturbed with the guide's anger.

_This is going to be a long hike_, Hannah thought as she caught up with Sam.

* * *

><p>"What did you major in when you were at Chicago?" Sam asked, breaking the silence they suffered since they started hiking.<p>

"I majored in Classical Studies," Hannah answered, looking up at him. "I was _also _a member of student government and on the swimming team."

"Swimming? Wow, I can't imagine you as a swimmer."

"And I can't imagine you as a lawyer."

"What?" Sam smiled, amused. "Why not?"

Hannah shrugged, smiling too. "You'd always win cases because you're super tall."

He laughed, and everyone glanced back in their direction. Dean raised an eyebrow at her before turning his attention back to Roy the guide.

"That doesn't even make sense," Sam told her.

"Oh, come on, Sammy. You'd make your case against whoever you're facing in court and everyone would be too afraid to say no to you," Hannah said then grinned when Sam laughed even more. This was good. Sam hadn't shown a genuine smile since Jessica died. "I'm kidding."

"I hope so because your argument is absurd."

"Hey! I am _not _absurd."

There was a pause at the head of the group. Hannah peered over Haley's younger brother Ben and saw that Roy and Dean were talking. She inwardly groaned. Dean's arrogance when it came to hunting was making him act like an ass.

They started moving again, but Haley and Dean were standing together. Hannah gave Dean a pointed look as she passed by them. He ignored her and kept talking to Haley. She and Sam hadn't gone too far when Dean caught up with them. Hannah jumped in front of Dean when she noticed him eating peanut butter M&Ms.

"Can I have some?" Hannah asked.

"No," he replied with his mouth full of candy.

"Please? I don't want much," Hannah whined, bouncing up and down. She let out an indignant sound when she noticed Dean staring at her chest and not her face. "I hope you get dehydrated from all the peanut butter M&Ms."

Hannah whirled and continued hiking through the forest. "What?" she heard Dean say after her, sounding dazed. She rolled her eyes and walked alongside Sam who shook his head, chuckling.

Roy stopped and announced, "This is it. Blackwater Ridge."

Sam stepped in front of Roy. "What coordinates are we at?" he asked the guide.

"Thirty-five and minus one-eleven," he answered after retrieving his GPS.

She felt Sam and Dean stand on either side of her. She strained her ear to hear something, but there was no sound. It was strange.

"Not even crickets," Hannah murmured. Dean nodded in agreement.

"I'm going to take a look around," Roy said from behind them.

"You shouldn't go off alone," Sam advised.

"That's sweet," Roy said derisively. "Don't worry about me."

Roy pushed past Dean, waving his gun at them. _It's like I can smell the testosterone_, Hannah thought as she pulled her hoodie over her shoulders and wrapped the sleeves around her waist. Dean motioned for Haley and Ben to follow them through the woods.

It wasn't until they made it to a clearing did Hannah realized what they were dealing with. The tents were torn and bloody while the supplies were scattered. Haley and Ben were suddenly ashen as they surveyed the camp.

Haley dropped her backpack to the ground. "Tommy!" she screamed, taking off. Sam chased after.

"Dean," Hannah called, stepping over a ripped sleeping bag. "I don't think this is a skinwalker or black dog."

"I don't think so either," Dean muttered, looking around. "The bodies were definitely dragged from the campsite, but the tracks just vanish."

"Come on. We need to tell Sam." She grabbed his wrist and the two found him quickly and the two sat down on a log. Hannah leaned down, placing her hand on Sam's broad shoulder as they stared at the vanishing tracks.

After explaining to Sam, Dean stood and headed back to the campsite. Just as she and Sam returned to the campsite, they heard someone shouting.

"Help! Somebody!"

Roy led the way as they ran towards the noise, but they found no one. Hannah paused to listen. Whoever was shouting sounded like they were close by, but no one was here. She gasped sharply when she finally realized what they were hunting.

As they headed back to camp, Dean grabbed Hannah's arm and slowed down their pace until they were alone.

"Did you figure out something?" he asked her.

"We're hunting a wendigo," she revealed then waved at Sam. "Get your dad's journal!"

"Oh come on." Dean frowned, disbelieving. "Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west."

"Well, it's here," Hannah huffed. She turned to Sam and took the journal, flipping pages until she found the page about wendigos.

"Think about it, Dean," Sam said, his eyes scanning the page. "The claws, the way it can mimic a human voice."

"Great," sighed Dean. He held up the pistol he took from Hannah the night before. "Well then this is useless."

Sam shoved John's journal into Dean's chest and headed back to camp. He stopped and turned around to face them.

"We have to get these people to safety," he said, resolute. Hannah and Dean exchanged a worried glance before hurrying after him. "Alright, listen up, it's time to go. Things have gotten... more complicated."

"What?" snapped Haley. She looked close to crying.

"Kid, don't worry. Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it," Roy said, completely ignorant of what was _really _out there.

"It's not _me _I'm worried about," Sam responded. "If you shoot this thing, you're just going to make it mad. We have to leave. Now."

If this was a cartoon, steam would have been coming out of Roy's ears.

"One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in _no _position to give anybody orders," hissed Roy.

"Relax," Dean spoke coolly. For a moment, it seemed like everyone was going to chill out until Sam opened his mouth.

"We never should have let you come out here in the first place, alright? I'm trying to protect you."

"Sam," Hannah said lowly. He ignored her, keeping his glare trained on the guide.

Roy stepped towards Sam, appearing quite small compared to him.

"You protect me?" he blazed. "I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night."

"Yeah?" Sam glowered down at Roy. "It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid sorry ass out of here."

Hannah stared at him, trying to believe that this was the same boy she knew since childhood.

Roy didn't seem intimidated, or maybe he was and only hid it behind a derisive laugh. "You know you're crazy, right?"

"Yeah? You ever hunt a wen—?" Dean shoved his brother back.

"Chill out," he ordered.

"Stop it. Everybody just stop," Haley demanded. "Look, Tommy might still be alive, and I'm not leaving here without him."

A beat passed before someone decided to speak up.

"It's getting late," acknowledged Dean. "This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves."

Hannah was already getting started with the Anasazi symbols.

* * *

><p>The sun was low in the sky by the time she and the boys finished protecting the camp from the wendigo. Hannah remembered seeing the symbol in one of the many books back at her dad's library.<p>

"_So, you guys are... camping?_" The disbelief in Faye's voice would have made Hannah laugh if it weren't for the tense situation.

"It was Dean's idea," Hannah said, leaning against a tree. Dean glanced at her when he heard his name. "Random, I know, but he hasn't gone camping since he was a kid so he dragged me and Sam along."

"_Camping_," Faye repeated.

"Yes, camping. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"_Because you don't even like camping, that's why_."

"I can get into camping," Hannah said defensively. "You know, tone my calves while I hike through the forest. Work these muscles."

Faye laughed lightly on the other line. "_Han, you're not a camper. You don't like any physical activity that doesn't involve water_."

Hannah opened her mouth to counter, but couldn't think of anything. Her eyes flitted across their makeshift campsite. Sam sat at the edge of it, brooding silently while Dean talked to Haley.

"_Are you enjoying it, though_?" Faye inquired.

"Ah... I've had better," Hannah replied then regretted her response.

"_I told you so_," she sing-songed.

"You won this round, Faye, but I'll force you to go camping with me when I come back."

"_Of course_. _Anyway, I'll talk to you later._ _Night_."

"Goodnight." Hannah snapped her phone shut.

She returned to the campfire and sat down next to Ben. Dean tilted his head in Sam's direction before getting up and walking over to him. Hannah nudged Ben and he flinched, startled.

"You've been quiet today. Are you alright?" Hannah asked him. Ben nodded, but turned his gaze back to the fire. "I know you're worried about your brother. Don't worry, we'll find him."

"Do you think so?" he asked. Hannah stared, realizing how young this boy was. "What if this... this _thing _has him?"

"Then we'll kill it," Hannah answered drily. She ignored the snort from Roy, keeping her eyes on Ben. "Sam and Dean? They're professionals at this."

"And you?" he questioned, looking at her.

"I'm... more of a rookie," Hannah said after a moment, smiling sheepishly.

Ben raised his brows at her, but before any of them could say anything further, a cry from outside the circle got everyone's attention. Hannah stood at once and went over to Dean who cocked his pistol.

"Help!" shouted the wendigo.

"He's trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put," Dean told everyone calmly.

"Inside the magic circle?" retorted Roy. More screams seemed to unsettle him as reluctantly admitted, "Okay, that's no grizzly."

The bushes rustled, making Haley shriek. _It's here_, Hannah realized. She grabbed a shotgun from Dean's duffel bag and waited. The rustling continued and Hannah jumped when she heard a gunshot. It was Roy and he was _grinning_.

"I hit it!" he exclaimed. He stepped out of the circle, and Hannah chased after him.

"Roy! No!" she shouted. She could hear Sam and Dean running behind her.

"It's over here!" yelled Roy. "It's in the tree!"

Hannah came to a crashing halt when she saw two hands grab Roy and snap his neck with a sickening _crack_. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe but someone grabbed her hand with such force it knocked her out of her stunned state.

"Come on!" shouted Dean, hauling her back to the campsite. When they made it back inside the circle, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "What were you thinking? You could have died!"

"I didn't even see it," Hannah whispered, pushing a lock of hair away from her face. "I'm sorry. It was just..."

"Instinct?" Sam supplied.

"Yeah." She nodded, the adrenaline slowly subsiding.

Dean stared at her for a moment, his eyes boring into hers. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step back. There was an apologetic look on his face, but Dean almost never said sorry.

Sam rubbed her back, concern plain on his face. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No." She shook her head. "We should try and get some sleep."

* * *

><p>Sleep seldom came for Hannah and the others.<p>

If Haley and Ben weren't around, Hannah would have given Dean a long "I told you so" speech because she _had _warned him about the risk of getting a bigger body count if they allowed civvies to tag along on their hunt.

Crawling out of the tent, Hannah found Sam sitting against a hollow tree stump. He played the lanyard attached to John's journal, but there was obviously no intention of opening it. She sat down next to him, nudging him lightly.

"You look tired," Sam noted.

"So do you," Hannah fired back. "When was the last time you got a decent night of sleep, Sam?"

Sam said nothing, still fiddling with the lanyard.

Hannah nibbled on her lower lip, contemplating whether she should express her worries or not. She decided not to, considering they were in the middle of trying to hunt down a wendigo.

Gesturing to the tent where Dean and the others sat near it, Hannah and Sam went over to them. Haley stood when she noticed them.

"So, we've got half a chance in the daylight. And I for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch," Sam voiced.

"Well, hell, you know I'm in," Dean said, grinning. "Princess?"

"I'm ready to kick some wendigo ass," Hannah said, unable to stop the smile from spreading across her face. Dean could be infectious at times.

Everyone gathered around Sam as he read the passage from John's journal. "'Wendigo' is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours'."

"They're hundreds of years old. Each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter," Hannah read.

"How does a man turn into one of those things?" Haley questioned, curious.

"Well, it's always the same. During some harsh winter a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. Becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp," Dean answered as he picked some things up from the ground.

"Gross," Hannah uttered.

Dean and the others nodded in agreement.

"Like the Donner Party," Ben said.

Sam nodded. "Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality."

"If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less than human thing. You're always hungry," Hannah added then made a face. "Again, gross."

"So if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?" Haley asked them.

The three hunters exchanged hesitant glances. "You're not gonna like it," Dean warned, but Haley insisted so he did. "More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time, but when it's awake it keeps its victims alive. It, uh, it stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there."

Haley nodded, looking paler than before. "And how do we stop it?" she asked.

"Well, guns are useless, so are knives," Hannah answered then looked at Dean.

He held up a can of lighter fluid and gasoline. "We have to torch the sucker."

They spent the next few hours following trees with bloody claw marks on them. Sam called her and Dean over where they regarded the broken branches and claw marks.

"You know, I was thinking, those claw prints, so clear and distinct. They were almost—"

"Too easy to follow?" Hannah guessed. "I was thinking the same."

A beastly growl startled Hannah, making her whirl to see nothing. The trees rustled, almost as if the wendigo was taunting them. Haley shrieked and leaped out of the way where a body fell from the tree.

_Roy_. Hannah swallowed thickly and went over to Haley, lending her a hand. She accepted it graciously and dusted herself off.

"His neck's broken," Dean told them. He stiffened when they heard another growl. "Okay, run, run, run, go, go, go!"

Hannah ran as fast as she could. She heard someone trip and fall, and was about to stop, but she was running so fast she couldn't stop. Suddenly, a pale, incredibly thin beast materialized in front of her.

"Hannah!" she heard someone shout behind her.

The wendigo roared and reached for her, but she sidestepped it. Hannah didn't realize that there was a slope. She was sure her brain was rattled as she rolled down the slope. Hannah widened her eyes when she saw an incoming tree.

Then everything went black.

* * *

><p>Dean was shaken awake, his vision bleary. He winced at the sound of Sam's voice then gently nodded his head.<p>

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said groggily. He squinted, looking around the dark mine as Sam cut him down from the ceiling with a knife. "Where's Hannah?"

Sam didn't answer as he helped Dean down. He groaned as he was seated on the ground. Haley was ridding herself of the rope around her wrists.

"Where's Hannah?" Dean demanded.

"Ben fell so I helped him up. I thought she had gotten taken too," Sam finally said.

"Wait, Hannah is out there _alone _while there's a fucking wendigo roaming those woods!" Dean shouted, rousing himself up. His jaw tightened, wanting to punch something. "Cut Haley's brother down. I'm going after her."

"You can't go out there," Sam said, his eyes widening. "You're still in pain! You could get the both of you killed!"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Dean snapped, straightening himself up. He spotted something piled in the corner. "Check it out."

"Flare guns. Those will work," Sam realized with a grin. Dean grinned back, but his heart wasn't in it.

All he could worry about was Hannah lost in the woods with that wendigo.

* * *

><p>Before she opened her eyes, she felt her body being dragged through dirt. Fluttering her lashes open, Hannah suppressed a scream.<p>

The wendigo caught her. It must have kidnapped the others and went back for her. She tilted her head, noticing that she was being taken to a mine. Hannah felt her face and winced from the pain. The next time she hit her head, she was going to crack open her skull.

Hannah grimaced and tried to cover her head with her hood, the pain intensifying as the wendigo dragged her through the mine. She writhed her body, but its grip on her was tight. She cried out when the wendigo suddenly dropped her and disappeared.

"Hannah," a familiar voice whispered.

"What...?" she moaned, still in pain.

"Get up." Someone lifted her up, and Hannah's vision went black for a second. "What happened?"

"Dean?" Hannah let her head roll forward, bumping into his shoulder. "I think I fell."

A shot went off and from a distance, Hannah could see light illuminate the dark mine.

"Stay behind me," Dean instructed quietly. Hannah moved behind him and clutched the back of his shirt. "Hey!"

The wendigo whirled. Dean raised his flare gun and shot it in the stomach. Almost immediately, the wendigo was consumed by flames. Hannah gasped and watched the wendigo burn to death.

Dean looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. "Not bad, huh?"

She grinned back and let out a breathless, relieved laugh.

* * *

><p>They returned to the motel after seeing Haley and her brothers leave Blackwater Ridge with the ambulance. Hannah collapsed on the bed and groaned into the pillow. One of the paramedics checked her head and told her she had a concussion, but would recover in a few hours.<p>

"I'm going to get something for us to eat," Dean announced.

"Arghmm," mumbled Hannah, her face still in the pillow.

"I think she says she wants a milkshake," Sam said, sounding amused.

"You got it, Princess," chuckled Dean.

Hannah mumbled her usual retort and winced when the door slam shut. She was dozing off for a few minutes when she heard strangled cries coming from the bathroom. Lifting her head gingerly, Hannah listened for the noise.

_Sam_, she realized. Slowly, Hannah pushed herself off the bed and padded over to the bathroom door. She leaned her head against the door gently, frowning.

"Sammy," she murmured, "Since we left Stanford, you keep insisting that you're fine, but you're really not. And don't lie to me because this camping trip just proved it, but you know what? It's _okay_ to be sad, Sam. I would be too if I had known Jessica for as long as you did." She rolled her body so her back rested against the door instead. "It's going to be okay, Sam."

"No, it won't be okay," Sam said, emotion thick in his voice. "The love of my life just _died _and I saw it before it even happened!"

"What do you mean you saw it?" Hannah asked, confused.

"Nothing. Just forget it."

"Did you see it as in, like... a premonition?"

"I said forget it," he snapped.

"Why didn't you tell me? Or De—?"

"Tell you?" The door swung open so abruptly that Hannah stumbled back into the bathroom. When she turned to face him, she was stunned to see how _angry _he was. "I haven't seen you in three years! How was I supposed to tell you?"

"I... I thought we were closer than that," Hannah stammered. "Three years is nothing, Sam. We still talked on the phone."

"Rarely," Sam scoffed, shaking his head. "Three years can change a person, Hannah. I had a good life. I was going to Stanford. Jess and I were going to get married. While you... you kept doing this stuff, this supernatural stuff."

"Sam—"

"You say you thought we were closer than that? That's funny because this whole 'friendship' started off as a _To Kill a Mockingbird _joke. You really thought a lasting friendship would come out of that?"

"You don't mean that." Hannah hoped her voice didn't betray how close to crying she was.

"Don't I?" he asked coldly.

"What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter?" Sam laughed mirthlessly. "Hannah, Jess just _died_ and I'm here arguing with a child about telling secrets."

He pushed past her as he left the bathroom, striding across the room and nearly knocking Dean down as he walked out the front door. Dean looked back at the door then at Hannah who meekly stepped out of the bathroom.

"What twisted his panties?" Dean questioned after swallowing down some French fries he had been devouring as he entered their motel room.

A choked sob escaped her lips before she could even compose herself. Dean put down the takeout bag and went over to her. _I'm such a baby_, Hannah thought, embarrassed for crying so easily.

"Hey, why are you crying?" Dean thumbed away her tears.

"Sam, he..." Hannah's whimpering and sniffling made it hard to speak.

"_Sam _made you cry?" Dean demanded then headed over to the door. "Hold on, I'll get him."

"Don't! It isn't his fault," cried Hannah. Her head pounded from the pain, both from the concussion and Sam. "I tried to make him open up about Jessica. You saw how he was during this hunt. But... he snapped at me. I should have given him space like you told me to."

"Han." She looked up from her hands to see Dean staring down at her with a soft look in his eyes. "It isn't your fault."

"Sam thinks so," she mumbled then noticed that Dean had pulled her into a comforting hug.

"Well, Sam's emotional right now," Dean told her. He smiled playfully. "You know us Winchesters, we can never deal with our feelings."

"Right," Hannah laughed weakly.

"But don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll apologize when he comes back. Sam's nice like that."

"You're nice too."

"I'm not nice."

"Yes you are," Hannah insisted, beaming at him. "And you're sweet too, like a teddy bear."

His mouth twisted into a grimace. "... Don't ever compare me to a teddy bear," he said.

"Why not?" She melted into his solid body, squeezing him like she would a stuffed animal. "You're nice, comforting, a good hugger..."

Dean smirked and let his hand slide down to the small of her spine, his pinky finger going under her shirt. Hannah tensed from how dangerously low his hand was going. "I'm not _only _good at hugging, Princess."

Hannah shoved him away. "Oh my God, Dean! Do you _always _have to ruin the moment?"

"Hey, I'm just being honest," Dean shrugged, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled at him. "But really, thanks Dean," she said, swaying her hips.

"Ah, it's nothing." He rubbed the nape of his neck. "Hey, just don't say anything to Sam, alright? I told him no chickflick moments and if he knows I broke my rule, he'll think he can too." He looked back at the takeout bag then at the T.V. "Want to dig in? I even got you a strawberry milkshake."

"Yay." Hannah turned on the T.V. and the two ate burgers and French fries. She nearly choked on her food because of Dean's silly commentary for the completely inaccurate _Van Helsing_.


	4. Dead in the Water

**Author's Note: **Welcome and thank you new followers: _Angelyn_, _XXArmageddonXX, SophiaNevermore_, _blondieluver612_, _pattycakes2000_, _xXallegedangelXx_, _okaloosa_, _DLHKM_, _MrsRTPattinson_, _calicoe_, _ Whitlock-Hale_, _alkorn_, _Barbie on_ Crutches, and _xgredandforgex. _Thank you _Grizzlybearsandteacups_, _xXallegedangelXx_, _Luna888_, _HarryPotterFrek_, _ Whitlock-Hale_, _alkorn_, _grapejuice101_, and _DrAnime203_ for favoriting. Also Special thanks to _pattycakes2000_, _RebornRose1992_, _Selina_, and some guests for reviewing.

I just made a tumblr blog for this story so check it out! The link is on my page. Ask me anything! Please enjoy and review this chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>3.<strong>

**Dead in the Water**

"_Living in a material world. And I am a material girl. You know that we are living in a material world. And I am a material girl_," sang Hannah as she applied mascara to her right eye.

"Please stop singing," called Dean flatly from outside the bathroom door. "You sound terrible."

"I do not!" Hannah exclaimed, swinging the door open. "Will you just shut up and let me listen to some Madonna in peace?"

"Oh, listen all you want. Just don't sing," Dean drawled, not looking up from the edge of the bed where he laced up his boots.

"Rude," huffed Hannah, returning to her task. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Sam slowly approach the doorway. "Yes?"

"Hannah, I'm sorry," he apologized, sorrow etched on his face. "I didn't mean to blow up. It's just..."

She set down her mascara and turned to face Sam, waiting expectantly for him to continue.

"I'm not used to anyone asking me to, you know, open up. I guess I got overwhelmed when you tried to do it," he continued, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "So, I'm sorry... again."

"Don't worry about it. I was never really mad at you," Hannah replied, smiling a little.

"But I made you cry," Sam pointed out, frowning.

"You did, as embarrassing as that was," she admitted, sheepish. "I forgive you, Sam. Only on one condition."

"What?" he asked warily.

Hannah opened her arms, and laughed when Sam swept her into a brotherly hug.

* * *

><p>Ever since departing from South Dakota, Hannah hadn't been able to mull over how far from home she was. Only now as they drove out of Colorado, Hannah was starting to feel homesick.<p>

_What would I be doing now if I was at home? _Hannah wondered, sprawled out in the backseat of the Impala.

She'd probably help research something for her dad, assist him in selling some scraps from the salvage yard, or maybe watch _The Real World_. Her dad claimed that the only reason he watched reality TV was because of her, but once Hannah caught him watching _My Super Sweet 16_. He forced her to never to speak of it.

"Why so quiet?" Dean inquired, breaking the silence.

Hannah met his inquisitive stare from the rearview mirror. She bit her bottom lip, contemplating whether she should tell them she felt homesick. Dean might take it the wrong way and drive her right back to Sioux Falls.

"No reason," Hannah eventually said, stretching her arms over her head. "So, do you have any idea where your dad might be?"

"Yeah, Dean. Any ideas?" Sam asked. There was an undeniable bite to his tone.

_Oops_.

"He has a trail. We follow it while it's still hot then we find him," Dean replied stiffly.

Eager to change the subject before the boys had another falling out, Hannah asked, "Do you think we could go to the movies at the next town? I'm dying to see the new _Harry Potter_."

Sam snorted at her choice of film while Dean creased his brows in confusion. "You're such a dork," teased Sam, the same time Dean echoed, "_Harry Potter_?"

"Says the guy who joined the Mathletes in high school," Hannah retorted, grinning when Sam rolled his eyes. "And, Dean, _Harry Potter _is the movie about wizards."

"Oh." He waved a dismissive hand at her. "I knew that."

Hannah giggled at the obvious lie. Her homesickness was subsiding, and Hannah knew it would return again, but at least she felt better. She adored moments like these when it was just her and the boys.

* * *

><p>A couple days later, they were eating breakfast at a nearby diner when Hannah found them a job.<p>

She sat next to Dean, reading the newspaper while he devoured his plate of eggs and bacon, looking the least bit attractive. Hannah, on the other hand, ate her pancakes daintily. Sam had finished his breakfast and was in the restroom.

Finishing his plate, Dean began circling obituaries in the newspaper. Hannah would point out something that seemed unusual. Her eyes went to a particular obituary about a girl who drowned, but the odd thing was that the girl was a varsity swimmer.

"Can I get you anything else?" asked the waitress.

Dean and Hannah both raised their heads, the former slowly grinning around the pen he chewed. Wendy, as her nametag read, smiled back, ignoring Hannah who wished she _so _wasn't witnessing this. Gratefully, Sam returned from the restroom and sat down on the other side of Hannah.

"Just the check, please," he told the waitress politely. Dean watched Wendy flounce away then dropped his head, sighing.

"You know, Sam, we're allowed to have fun once in a while," Dean said, looking back up. He gestured to Wendy, disappointment clear on his features. "_That's _fun."

The brothers stared at each other, and Hannah shook her head in a mix of disbelief and amusement.

"Maybe next time," Hannah said good-naturedly. She took the newspaper from him and handed it to Sam. "Here, look at this. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake and doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago."

"A funeral?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah, it's weird," Dean commented, "They buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure or whatever."

"Dean," Hannah admonished, gasping slightly at his insensitive words. Was he really that thoughtless?

"Closure?" Sam echoed crossly. "What closure? People don't just disappear. Other people just stop looking for them."

"Something you want to say to me?" Dean demanded, narrowing his eyes.

_Oh no_, Hannah thought. She hated it when they fought, but her dad once told her that people who fought constantly over the smallest things to major things cared about each other the most. And it was no secret that Dean loved his brother to the point he'd go to hell and back for him.

"The trail for Dad. It's getting colder every day," Sam started, exasperated.

"Exactly, so what are we supposed to do?" Dean asked roughly.

"I don't know," Sam replied tersely. "Something. Anything."

"You know what? I'm sick of this attitude," snapped Dean. He turned to Hannah who had been watching them argue back and forth like a tennis match. "Don't you find his attitude annoying?"

Hannah chewed her bottom lip. "Uh..." she glanced at Sam who stared at her expectantly. "Yes, we're searching for your dad, Sam, but we're hunters, and hunters protect people from the things that go bump in the night. You want to help people, don't you?"

Sam gazed about her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yes," he answered eventually.

"Good. Then we kill some baddies, save some people, and we find your dad," Hannah said buoyantly. "Now, how far away is Lake Manitoc? Dean?"

The man in question was ogling the waitress. Hannah rolled her eyes and Sam shook his head.

"Dean!" Sam called sharply.

"Huh?" Dean returned his attention back to Sam and Hannah, a glazed look in his eyes.

"Keep it in your pants," Hannah huffed, getting up and collecting her things. "Autobots, let's roll out!"

Sam laughed behind her while Dean uttered, "You really _are _a dork."

* * *

><p>Hannah tried to smother her upbeat smile as the Impala approached the Carlton home. She would be posing as a federal agent for the first time, and it made her both anxious and excited. What if they figured out that she was a fake? Would she go to prison?<p>

Dean seemed to be reading her thoughts and smiled lazily at her. "You look like you're about to faint. It's not _that _bad, Princess."

His words didn't cease the nervousness she felt nor did the comforting pat on her back from Sam. Squaring her shoulders, Hannah waited for someone to answer the door after Dean knocked on it.

"Will Carlton?" Dean assumed as a young man swung the front door open.

"Yeah, that's right," he affirmed quietly.

"I'm Agent Ford. This is Agent Hamill and Agent Fisher." The boys held up their false IDs easily while Hannah fumbled for hers. Sam suppressed a smile while Dean kept his face impassive. "We're with the US Wildlife Service."

Will nodded absently, and led them to the lake. Hannah hit Sam's arm when she noticed him grinning at her clumsy hands. She tried not to let a smile slip up when they approached the lake. She hadn't gone swimming since graduating from Chicago.

"She was about a hundred yards out," Will told them. "That's where she got dragged down."

"And are you sure she didn't just drown?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer," Will said. He turned back to the lake, sighing. "She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as in her own bathtub."

"So, no splashing? No signs of distress?" Sam questioned.

"No, that's what I'm telling you," Will answered, irritated.

"Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?"

"No. Again, she was really far out there."

"You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?" Dean inquired.

"No. Never," Will answered, his anger subsiding. He asked, rather curiously, "Why? What do you think's out there?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we do," Hannah replied then smiled kindly. "Thank you for your time."

She followed Dean who headed back to the car, pausing when she noticed Sam ask Will something. She was too far to hear what they were saying, but she noticed Will look at his father.

"Where to next?" Hannah asked Dean.

"Police station," he replied, unlocking the door to the Impala. "You won't go totally mute there, will you?"

Hannah's cheeks reddened as if she'd been slapped. "N-No," she stammered, covering her blushing cheeks with her hands. "Don't make fun of me. It was my first time."

"Yeah, first times are always... hard," Dean remarked, smirking. "Did it hurt? I heard it usually does for girls."

"Wha...?" Hannah looked up at him, baffled. "Why would it hurt? I don't under..." Realization dawned on her face, and so did the smirk on Dean's. "Dean! You are so _gross_!"

Sam peered at them curiously, but Hannah refused to bring it up again as they all climbed inside the Impala and headed to the police station. The drive there did not take too long, and Hannah followed the boys inside the police station.

With only a flash of their badges, the sheriff was flagged down almost immediately. Introductions were brief and they were led to his office.

"Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?" questioned Sheriff Devins.

"You sure it's accidental?" Sam asked, doubtful. "Will Carlton saw something grab his sister."

"Like what?" snorted Sheriff Devins. He gestured for them to sit, but only two chairs were present. Hannah was about sit in one, but Sam did as well. They paused, glancing at the chair then back at each other.

"I'll stand," Sam mumbled, moving so she could sit. Hannah flashed him a smile then sat down, bumping Dean as she lowered herself in the chair.

"There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake. There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster," Sheriff Devins continued.

"Yeah, right." Dean laughed a bit derisively. Hannah could feel the corners of her mouth lift.

"Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still, we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there," Sheriff Devins informed them.

"That's weird, though," commented Dean, leaning forward. "I mean, that's the third missing body this year."

"I know," Sheriff Devins said, troubled. "These are people from my town. These are people I care about."

"We understand," Hannah murmured sympathetically.

"Anyways..." sighed Sheriff Devins. "All this... it won't be a problem much longer."

"What do you mean?" Hannah asked, frowning.

"Well, the dam, of course," Sheriff Devins said, staring at them strangely. Hannah realized that this must have been known news in their town.

"Of course, the dam," Dean repeated, trying not to sound as confused as Hannah was. "It, uh, sprung a leak."

"It's falling apart," the sheriff said slowly. "And the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either. But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that."

"Exactly," Dean said, nodding his head.

A light tapping at the door interrupted them. Hannah twisted around in her seat to see a pretty woman with brown hair and eyes enter the office. _She's a goner_, Hannah thought, glancing at Dean who only seemed to _brighten _at the prospect of bedding some attractive girl.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" she asked, apologetic. "I can come back later."

"Gentlemen—" Sheriff Devins casted a smile over at Hannah. "—and lady, this is my daughter."

Dean stood and shook her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Dean," he greeted.

"Andrea Barr." She smiled. "Hi."

"Hi." Dean smiled back.

"They're from Wildlife Service about the lake."

"Oh." Andrea's never-ending smile deflated. Just then, a little boy stepped out from behind her.

"Hey there. What's your name?" Dean asked the little boy. The little boy turned away before running out of the office. Andrea looked abashed before following him.

"His name is Lucas," Sheriff Devins answered dismally.

"Is he okay?" Sam inquired.

"My grandson's been through a lot. We all have," was all Sheriff Devins said. He stood and went over to the office door. "Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know."

"You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?" Dean said, his eyes trained on Andrea. Hannah crossed her arms and tried not to roll her blue eyes.

"Lakefront Motel," Andrea said instantly. "Go around the corner, it's about two blocks south."

"Two..." Dean frowned in mock confusion. "Would you mind showing us?"

Sam looked at Hannah, amused. Hannah on the other hand, was contemplating taping Dean's mouth shut. She'd probably have to tackle him, maybe she'd have Sam hold him down...

"You want me to walk you two blocks?" Andrea laughed, incredulous.

"Not if it's any trouble," chirped Hannah, forcing a smile.

"I'm headed that way anyway," Andrea said, mostly to Dean. She turned to her father. "I'll be back to pick up Lucas at three."

Hannah smiled sincerely when Andrea bent down to kiss the top of her son's head. "We'll go the park, okay, sweetie?"

The three followed Andrea out of the police station. Hannah touched Dean's elbow, making him look down at her. She smiled cheerfully, but her words were the polar opposite of it.

"Can you be any less professional?" she questioned quietly.

"Can you be any less of a cockblock?" Dean fired back, smirking from Hannah's indignant gasp. He turned back to Andrea, walking alongside her. "So, cute kid."

"Thanks," Andrea replied shortly.

"Kids are the best, huh?" Hannah bit down on her lower lip to keep herself from laughing while Sam had less luck. What was with Dean's pickup lines? They were so awful. Was he being lame on purpose?

Andrea said nothing as they crossed a street, stopping in front of the Lakefront Motel. "There it is," she announced, turning to face them. "Like I said, two blocks."

"Thanks," Sam said, smiling.

"Must be hard, with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line," Andrea quipped to Dean. She then addressed Hannah and Sam. "Enjoy your stay!"

Hannah gaped at Andrea's retreating form then looked at Dean. He was glaring at her, but whipped his head in Sam's direction so fast that he could have snapped his neck.

"'Kids are the best'?" Sam ridiculed, snickering.

"You don't even _like _kids!" Hannah exclaimed, her eyes wide at Dean's blatant lie.

"I love kids," Dean insisted.

"Name three children that you even know," Sam challenged.

Dean paused, struggling to come up with any names. He looked at Hannah then jutted his thumb out at her.

"Her," he said childishly. Hannah gasped, offended. She punched his arm, though halfheartedly.

"Right," scoffed Sam, waving a dismissive hand as he entered the motel.

"I'm thinking!" Dean called after him, scratching his head.

"I didn't know you did that," Hannah joked, smiling playfully. She squealed and dodged his fist, running inside the motel after Sam.

* * *

><p>"So, there's the three drowning victims this year," Sam said, typing on his laptop.<p>

Hannah was sprawled out on one of the queen beds, practically hanging upside down while Dean rummaged through his clothes. She could feel the blood rushing to her face the longer she laid like this.

"Any before that?" Dean asked, distracted.

"Uh, yeah." Hannah sat up and rolled off the bed. She padded over to Sam peering over his shoulder at the article opened up on his laptop. "Six more spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace."

"Do you think it's a lake monster?" Hannah offered, resting her chin on Sam's shoulder.

"This whole lake monster theory, it just bugs me," Sam admitted.

"Why?" asked Dean, coming over to them.

"Loch Ness, Lake Champion, there are literally hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing," Sam explained, glancing at the both of them. "Whatever it is out there, no one's living to talk about it."

A name stood out in the comments section, and Hannah pointed at it. "Wait, Christopher Barr. Doesn't Andrea have the same last name?"

"Christopher Barr, the victim in May," Sam read. He clicked a link and there was a picture of a police officer with Lucas. "Oh. Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband, Lucas's father. Apparently he took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned two hours before the kid got rescued."

"Poor baby," Hannah murmured, frowning.

"Maybe we have an eyewitness after all," Sam said, scratching his head.

"No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over," Dean remarked.

Hannah's frown deepened. She supposed she was lucky enough not to witness her own mom die since she was only two months old when she had gotten possessed. Dean on the other hand couldn't forget seeing his mom burn.

_Why am I worrying over him? _There was nothing to worry about when concerning Dean. He was strong and fearless with a devil-may-care attitude. Dean could handle himself, but it didn't mean he had to do it alone.

"Princess," came Dean's teasing voice. Hannah blinked and realized she had been staring at him. "Take a picture if you'd like. It'll last longer."

"I am not your princess!" Hannah said shrilly. She crossed her arms and turned away from him. To even think that she was actually worried about him.

* * *

><p>They found Andrea sitting on a bench at the park, watching Lucas draw on a different bench. Hannah gave Dean a pointed look, remembering the conversation they had on the walk to the park. Well, it was more one-sided than anything since Dean ignored had ignored her.<p>

"Can we join you?" Sam asked the young mother.

"I'm here with my son," she responded, glancing at Lucas.

"Oh." Hannah exchanged hesitant glances with the boys.

"Mind if I say hi?" Dean looked over at Lucas then without waiting for an answer, strode over to the little boy.

"Tell your friend this whole _Jerry Maguire _thing is not gonna work on me," Andrea deadpanned.

Hannah laughed lightly as she sat down next to Sam who seated himself beside Andrea.

"Don't worry, he won't try it," Hannah assured her.

"And I don't think that's what this is about," Sam added soberly.

_He's good with kids_, Hannah realized as she watched Dean talk to Lucas. She smiled, wondering what kind of drawing he was giving the kid. Dean lacked artistic talent, but Hannah couldn't really talk. She sucked at drawing, her sketches coming out wonky every time she attempted to draw. Sam was a much better artist out of the three of them.

Dean ambled back over to them, just as Andrea confessed that Lucas hadn't spoken since his dad's accident.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Hannah said, smiling sympathetically. Andrea returned it, though her smile was wan.

"What are the doctors saying?" Sam inquired.

"That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress," Andrea answered, emotion threatening to rise in her voice.

"That can't be easy," Hannah murmured. Andrea shrugged, turning her gaze to her son.

"We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just..." she sighed heavily. "... when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw..."

"Kid are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with," Dean reflected, his lips twitching into an engaging smile. Hannah looked up at him, wondering if he was talking about Lucas or himself.

"You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth," Andrea admitted, a mirthless smile crossing her features. "Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish—" She paused, noticing Lucas approaching them. "Hey sweetie."

Hannah widened her eyes when Lucas handed Dean a drawing of a house. She turned to Sam who seemed just as surprised at the sudden gesture.

"Thanks," Dean said gently. "Thanks, Lucas."

Shortly after that, the three said goodbye to Andrea and headed back to the motel. Hannah was tired of diner food, so she offered to buy a couple boxes of pizza. Dean seemed reluctant to give her the keys to the Impala, but his growling stomach convinced him otherwise.

She found a pizza place nearby and was told to wait twenty minutes. Attempting to kill the time, Hannah wandered into a clothing store. She hadn't brought any swimwear, and she was certain she would be going in the lake in order to stop this thing, but it was November. What clothing store would be selling swimwear at this time? Apparently _this _clothing store was because Hannah found a whole rack of bikinis dangling from hangers.

After buying two separate bikinis, Hannah realized she still had time before the pizza was done. She thought of the picture Lucas had drawn for Dean. Hannah could check out the Carlton house! It seemed like this... thing was targeting whoever lived there.

Hannah hurry took out one of Dean's cassettes and put in one of her favorites—Marvin Gaye. She smiled to herself, deciding whether to call Dean so he could hear Hannah play some music that didn't belong to him inside his Baby.

Her eyes widened when she noticed ambulance outside of the Carlton house. Parking the car, Hannah rushed out and went over to the crowd of neighbors watching as they brought a stretcher inside the house.

"What happened?" she asked no one in particular.

"Bill's son drowned," someone told her.

"How?" another person asked.

"He drowned in _the sink_. Can you believe it?"

Pulling out her Motorola RAZR, she flipped it open and called Sam.

"_Hannah, is something wrong_?" he asked.

"Yeah, Will Carlton is dead," Hannah revealed as she headed back to the Impala.

"_What_? _How_?"

"I just drove by his house and there's ambulance there. He drowned in the sink."

"_... Did you just say the sink_?"

"I know, it's insane. You were right, Sam. This isn't some lake monster we're hunting."

"_Look, we'll talk more about it when you get back to the motel. Wait, aren't you going to get the pizza_?"

"Oh my God! I almost forgot about that!" Hannah exclaimed. She quickly said goodbye and snapped her phone shut.

Hannah was sure she broke four traffic laws on her drive back to the pizza place and the motel.

* * *

><p>The next morning, they headed to the Carlton house to talk to Mr. Carlton.<p>

Unfortunately, he refused to talk more about it so they left. Hannah played with her hamsa amulet as they returned to the Impala. She suddenly remembered the picture Lucas drew.

"What is it?" Dean asked after Hannah shook his arm.

"Look at the picture Lucas gave you," she said.

Dean fished for the picture and pulled it out from the pocket of his jacket. "Huh. Maybe Bill's not the only one who knows something."

They climbed inside the Impala and drove to Andrea's house. Hannah was unsure how Dean even acquired the address to her home, but she shrugged it off. This was the only time she'd allow Dean to use his charms.

"Oh." Andrea looked quite surprised to see the three of them standing on her doorstep. "Um, hi."

"Hello. Do you mind if we come inside?" Hannah said, smiling hopefully.

"Sure..." Andrea stepped aside to let them in.

"We need to talk to Lucas," Sam told her. _Just cutting to the chase, aren't we? _Hannah thought.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Andrea said, hesitant.

"I just need to talk to him. Just for a few minutes," Dean urged.

"He won't say anything. What good's it going to do?" Andrea demanded.

"Andrea," Sam started, "We think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there."

With those puppy dog eyes and the pleading tone in his voice, Hannah wondered how _anyone _could refuse him. Hannah certainly wouldn't. He was like one of those giant dogs who thought they were lap dogs.

"My husband, the others... they just drowned," she murmured, almost to herself. "That's all."

"If that's _really _what you believe, then we'll go," Hannah replied, staring at her. "But if you think there's even a _possibility_ that something else could be going on here, please let Dean talk to your son."

Andrea appraised each of them, her eyes falling on Dean last. Hannah could see it in his eyes that he was imploring Andrea to let him speak to her son. That was one of the differences between Sam and Dean. Sam used words—Dean used actions.

She led them to Lucas's room, but Hannah and Sam waited outside while Dean approached Lucas alone. Hannah watched, suppressing a smile as Dean spoke quietly to the little boy.

"Thanks, Lucas," Dean said, rising to his feet.

"Thank you for letting us into your home," Hannah told Angela as she walked them out.

"No problem," Andrea said, nodding.

"Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died," Dean commented on their way back to the Impala.

"There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies," Sam informed them. He shoved the passenger seat forward so Hannah could climb in the backseat.

"Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please," Dean said, turning the key in the ignition.

Hannah took the picture from Sam's hands and studied it. A yellow two-story house surrounded by a wooden fence. Could the white church be near the house?

"Do you guys see this church?" Hannah leaned forward, holding out the drawing. "I bet there's less than a thousand of those around here."

"Oh, Princess thinks she's _so _smart," joked Dean.

"Talk all you want, Jerry Maguire, but I just saved you from doing more work," Hannah retorted, earning a laugh from Sam. "But I'm surprised, Dean. You're _really _good with kids."

Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring her compliment. He turned up the volume on the radio instead. Hannah squeezed the back of his neck, making him jerk forward, before sitting back.

"Dean," Sam started, fiddling with his hands. "You know, um, what you said about Mom... you never told me that before."

"It's no big deal," Dean brushed off. He glanced at Sam who was staring at him. "Oh God, we're not going to have to hug or anything, are we?"

"I'll hug you, Sammy-Sam!" Hannah said sweetly.

Sam shot her an amused look before turning away to look out the window.

* * *

><p>"It looks exactly like the picture," Hannah remarked, looking back and forth at the picture in Dean's hands and the yellow house besides the white church.<p>

"It does," Sam agreed then gestured for them to follow. "Come on. Let's go."

Hannah adjusted her canary yellow cardigan as they crossed the street over to the house. She tossed her brown waves over her shoulder and waited for Dean to knock. When he didn't, Hannah cleared her throat loudly and gestured to the door.

He smirked at her before knocking.

An elderly woman opened the door shortly afterwards, blinking in surprise at the sight of them. Stepping aside, she allowed them inside her home.

"We're sorry to bother you, ma'am, but does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap, has a red bicycle," Dean inquired.

"No, sir," she answered wearily. "Not for a very long time. Peter's been gone for thirty-five years now."

"I'm so sorry," Hannah said sympathetically. She noticed the older woman sigh after looking at a picture of her son. Hannah just wanted to hug her.

"The police never—_I_ never had any idea what happened," she continued, shaking her head. "He just disappeared."

Sam elbowed her, making her jump. He tilted his head in the direction of some toy soldiers on the table. Hannah realized that this woman must have expected her son to return after that fateful day.

"Losing him, you know, it's... it's worse than dying," the old woman lamented, grief etched on her face.

"Did he just disappear? From this house, I mean?" Dean questioned softly.

"He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up," she replied.

Hannah's eyes swept the entire house, her gaze landing on a particular picture on the mirror. She walked past Sam and Dean over to the mirror, plucking the picture off it. Two boys were photographed, one taller and bigger than the other. Flipping it over, she read the writing on the back aloud, "Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, 1970."

She put the picture back and smiled gently at the older woman. "Thank you. I think we have all we need."

They left and headed back to the Impala. Hannah fingered the hamsa amulet around her neck, her mind whirling with new information. She tried to process it quickly.

Peter Sweeney and Bill Carlton were friends, then the former vanished and it becomes connected to Bill somehow. What if Peter's spirit haunted the lake? But that wouldn't make sense unless Peter was a vengeful spirit, and those are only spirits of those who were killed.

"Do you think Bill Carlton killed Peter?" Hannah suddenly asked as Dean pulled out of his parking spot. "It would explain why everyone he loves has been punished."

"_And _it would explain how Peter vanished—Hannah, you're a genius," Sam added, grinning at her.

"Thanks." Hannah grinned back. "I can't have you boys running around without a clue what's going on."

Dean scoffed. "You forgot humble, Sammy," he said then lifted his arm to block Hannah's slap. "And also violent. I never took you for the type to try and crash out car, Princess. Oh wait, you are, because you crashed my Baby into a fucking house."

"You..." Hannah struggled for an insult. "Just shut up."

He laughed while Sam chuckled. Hannah pouted and leaned back in the seat. The silence didn't last long as they pulled up in front of the Carlton home quickly.

"Mr. Carlton?" Sam called as they walked onto the property.

Hannah froze when she heard the sound of an engine. "Do you hear that?" she asked them.

Without a second thought, Hannah and the boys ran around the house over to the lake. She widened her eyes, gasping when she saw Bill Carlton driving his boat into the lake. Dean and Sam started to shout, but Hannah only felt instinct take over.

She shrugged off her cardigan and was about to unbuckle her ankle boots, but stopped at the sight of the boat flipping over in the lake, disappearing. Hannah stood still, her scream stuck in her throat. Her heart hammered inside her chest, and she could feel her hands tremble.

_Someone just _died _and I couldn't save them_, Hannah thought, startled.

"Han," she heard Sam say. "Say something."

"What?" Hannah asked, snapping out of her shock. She noticed that she was sitting on the hood of the Impala instead of standing on the dock.

"You've been catatonic for the past eight minutes," he explained, frowning. "I hope you know that this isn't your fault. There was nothing you could do to stop him."

Hannah crossed her arms and nodded absently. She noticed Dean talking to Sheriff Devins. Dean glanced over at her and Sam. He locked eyes with her, a twinge of sympathy flickering in those green orbs before returning his attention to Sheriff Devins. She sat up straighter when Dean traipsed back to them.

"Sheriff wants to talk to us in his office," he told them. He tilted his head at Hannah. "You feeling better?"

"Does this usually happen? When you hunt, I mean?" Hannah asked quietly, looking up at him. Dean hesitated, looking over at Sam for a moment before returning her gaze.

"We can't save everybody, Hannah," he finally said. "Chin up, Princess. It gets easier."

"How?"

"You get used to it."

That comment chilled her.

* * *

><p>"Sam, Hannah, Dean. I didn't expect to see you here." Andrea stood when they neared Sheriff Devins' office.<p>

"So, now you're on first name basis," Sheriff Devins observed. He turned to his daughter. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought you dinner," Andrea answered, motioning to the bag sitting on her chair.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don't really the time," her father replied, frowning.

Hannah noticed Lucas sitting in a chair, hugging his knees while rocking back and forth. He looked frightened, like _he _had been the one to witness Bill Carlton die in the lake. She reached for Sam's wrist, squeezing it lightly.

Sam looked down at her questioningly but his eyes went to Lucas, realizing what she meant. He elbowed Dean who opened his mouth to snap at him, but stopped when Lucas hopped out of the chair and grabbed Dean's arm.

"Lucas, hey, what is it?" he asked gently.

"Lucas?" Andrea watched along with Hannah and Sam as Dean tried to comfort the little boy. She took Lucas from Dean and led him away.

Sheriff Devins tossed his jacket onto an empty chair and continued to his office. Hannah and the boys followed.

"Okay, just so I'm clear, you see... something attack Bill's boat, sending Bill—who is a very good swimmer, by the way—into the drink, and you never see him again?" Sheriff Devins questioned incredulously.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," Dean responded somberly.

Sheriff Devins looked at the three of them, his expression skeptic. "And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake? And what you're describing is impossible? And you're not really Wildlife Service?"

Hannah stiffened, both alarmed and unsurprised that they had been found out.

"That's right, I checked. Department's never heard of you three," the sheriff continued.

An image of herself dressed in an orange jumpsuit flashed in her mind, carrying shoes and a blanket on her way to her cell while other prisoners catcalled her. _Oh God, I'm going to become someone's bitch_, Hannah thought nervously.

"See, now, we can explain..." Dean tried.

"Enough, please," interrupted Sheriff Devins, scoffing. "The only reason you're breathing free air is one of Bill's neighbors saw him steering out that boat just before you did. So, we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or, we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again."

A beat passed before Hannah forced out a response. "Door number two sounds good."

"That's the one I'd pick."

Hannah was the first one out the door. She wouldn't go to prison, Dean and Sam wouldn't go to prison either. For a moment, she was relieved, but then she sharply remembered that they hadn't dealt with this vengeful spirit. Was it truly rested? Would they have to search the lake for Peter Sweeney's remains in order to salt-and-burn it?

She wanted to ask Dean all these questions, but he seemed to be brooding so she decided not to bother him. Sam didn't seem to have any idea either. It wasn't until they finished packing their things from the motel and were driving out of town in the Impala did Hannah decide to speak up.

"We're really going to leave, aren't we?" she asked, leaning forward.

"The case is closed, Han. Peter's spirit should be at rest now that Bill's dead," Sam replied then motioned for Dean to drive. "Light's green."

Dean turned right instead much to their confusion.

"Uh, the interstate's the _other _way," Sam stated, as if Dean had forgotten.

"I know," Dean said.

"Dean, this job, I think it's over," Sam said, creasing his brows.

"I'm not so sure," the older hunter murmured.

"If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest," Sam insisted.

"Alright, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt?" Dean questioned, a challenging tone in his voice.

"But why would you think that?"

"Because Lucas was really scared, and I just don't want to leave this town until I know the kid's okay."

Hannah closed her mouth when she realized her jaw had fallen slack. She could see the stunned look on Sam's face.

"Who are you? And what have you done with my brother?" Sam finally said, astounded by Dean's words. Hannah laughed lightly.

Dean glanced at him and Hannah. "Shut up," he grumbled.

* * *

><p>Hannah knew something was wrong when Lucas opened the front door with the most terrified expression she had ever seen on a child.<p>

The boys hurried upstairs to where Lucas led them. Hannah instead went to the kitchen and searched for some salt. She found it in one of the cabinets and ran upstairs to where the noise was heard.

Sam was struggling to pull Andrea out of the bathtub. Hannah opened the salt and poured it in the water. She gasped when she heard a hiss, but didn't dwell on it when Sam finally pulled Andrea all the way out of the tub.

"Here." Hannah handed Andrea a robe.

"Thank you," Andrea said between coughs.

"Hey." Hannah turned around and was a little surprised to see Dean holding Lucas. "Good thinking with the... you know, salt."

She smiled wanly, shrugging. "I was taught by the best," she replied, thinking of her dad.

Bobby Singer was indisputably the best hunter in the community, and maybe she was just being biased because he was her dad, but who else could say that their father was the go-to hunter for everything supernatural?

No one, that's who.

* * *

><p>Hannah realized that out of the three hunters, she was the most qualified to go in the lake if it came down to it.<p>

She was a varsity swimmer, leading her high school swim team to the championships thrice. If she hadn't been so busy with student government back at university, Hannah could have made it to the pros.

As Andrea changed and Dean tried speaking to Lucas, Hannah went outside to the Impala and opened the trunk. She grabbed her duffel bag, shut the trunk, and returned to Andrea's house. Hannah ignored the questioning look Sam and Dean shot her as she trudged upstairs to the bathroom.

Stripping out of her clothes and underwear, Hannah slipped on her matching red bikini. She stared at herself in the mirror and frowned. Hannah hadn't realized how skimpy her bikini was. _Oh well_, she thought, shrugging. She put her clothes on over her bikini, picked up her duffel bag, and headed back downstairs.

Andrea was sitting on the couch. Her face was ashen, and her hands trembled. Hannah sat down next to her, putting a comforting arm around her. She noticed Dean and Sam rifling through the bookshelves, most likely searching for a reason why Peter's spirit tried to drown Andrea.

"It doesn't make any sense," Andrea cried, burying her face in her hands. "I'm going crazy."

"No, you're not," Hannah assured her. She rubbed Andrea's back. "Tell me what happened. Everything."

"I heard... I thought I heard... there was this voice," Andrea stammered, sniffling.

"What did it say?" Hannah urged her to continue.

"It said... it said 'come play with me'," Andrea answered then started to sob. "What's _happening_?"

Hannah chewed her lower lip, unable to explain what she and the boys were hunting without freaking her out even more. Instead, Hannah wrapped held her as she sobbed. She looked up to see Dean and Sam approach them, the former putting a scrapbook in front of Andrea.

"Do you recognize the kids in these pictures?" Dean asked Andrea.

"What? Um, um, no," she sputtered out. "I mean, except that's my dad right there. He must have been about twelve in these pictures."

Andrea pointed at a twelve year old boy standing besides Peter. Hannah widened her eyes, realizing what she suspected all along.

"Chris Barr's drowning," Sam said. "The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton. It must have been to the sheriff."

"Bill _and_ the sheriff—they were both involved with Peter," Hannah breathed, locking eyes with Sam.

"What about Chris?" Andrea was nonplussed. "My dad—what are you talking about?"

Dean turned away from Andrea. Hannah followed his gaze and saw Lucas standing by the window. She swallowed thickly, her heart beat quickening. Lucas's muteness was already unsettling, but he seemed to have a connection with Peter. Did Lucas know who Peter's next victim would be?

"Lucas?" Dean said. Lucas continued staring out the window. "Lucas, what is it?"

"Lucas, honey?" Andrea called, getting up to follow him when he opened the front door. Hannah and the boys went after them.

Lucas stopped after a while, staring at the ground. Dean nodded at him then told Andrea to take Lucas back inside and stay there. Sam found shovels in a shed after Andrea opened it for them. Hannah sat down on the grass, watching the boys dig.

"You could help, you know," Sam told her, scowling.

"Do you _really_ need three people to dig something out of the ground?" Hannah questioned, drawing her legs up to her chin. "Be logical, Sammy."

"You're just lazy," retorted Dean without looking up from the ground.

Hannah was about to respond, but a loud clank interrupted their squabble. Hannah watched as Dean and Sam pulled out a red bicycle with their hands. Pushing herself off the ground, Hannah went over to them and inspected the bike.

"Peter's bike," Sam said aloud.

The sound of a gun cocking made them freeze. Hannah forced herself to turn around, only to see Sheriff Devins pointing a gun at them. Dean's arm went over her stomach, pushing her back behind him.

"Who are you?" barked Sheriff Devins.

"Put the gun down, Jake," reasoned Sam, dropping the shovel.

"How did you know that was there?" Sheriff Devins demanded.

"What happened? You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike?" The tone in Dean's voice edged on cocksure, as if he didn't have a gun pointed at him. "You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried."

_Did he just make a __pun__? _

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," the sheriff said, but he couldn't fool them and he knew that.

"You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty-five years ago. That's what the hell I'm talking about," Dean proclaimed confidently. "And now you got one seriously pissed-off spirit."

"It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It's gonna drown them. And it's gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt. And then, after that, it's gonna take you, and it's not going to stop until it does," Sam told him.

"Yeah?" Sheriff Devins' hand shook around his pistol. "How do you know that?"

"Because that's exactly what it did to Bill Carlton!" Hannah exclaimed from behind Dean. "Stop being stubborn and let us help you!"

"Listen to yourselves, the three of you. You're insane."

"I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us," snapped Dean, done trying to convince Sheriff Devins. "But if we're going to bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake."

"Dad, is this true?" Andrea asked, horror coloring her voice.

"No. Don't listen to them," her father said. "They're liars and they're dangerous."

"Something tried to drown me. Chris _died_ on that lake," Andrea recounted, wretched. "Dad, _look at me_." Sheriff Devins finally tore his gaze away from Hannah and he boys. "Tell me you... you didn't _kill_ anyone."

His silence was the only answer they needed.

"Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank."

Hannah felt her mouth go dry. She remembered being bullied all throughout her childhood and teenage years, but the taunts never went so far that they tried to _kill _her.

"Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake, but, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It's not rational," Sheriff Devins continued, shaking his head. Hannah wanted to slap him, shocked that he was still in denial over this.

"Alright," Dean spoke up, "Listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake, as far as we can, right now."

"Lucas!" Hannah suddenly shouted after seeing the little boy headed towards the lake. She unbuckled her ankle boots and ran towards the lake, not waiting for the others.

Running and taking off her clothes was not easy. Hannah nearly tripped over her own feet trying to pull down her grey miniskirt. When she reached the edge of the dock, Hannah was left with only her white floral print sweater. Pulling it over her shoulders, Hannah dived into the lake.

When she rose for air, she saw Sam and Dean jumping in after her. Hannah looked up and shouted at Andrea who started to take off her own jacket. "Don't come in! We'll find him!"

Hannah went under again, swimming deeper into the lake. The voices above her sounded distant, but she kept searching for Lucas. Her eyes widened when she spotted him, his body limp. Hannah kicked her legs forward and wrapped her arms around him then swam over to the dock.

Dean took Lucas from her and put him on the dock. Andrea immediately tried waking him up and after a minute, Lucas started to cough up water. Sam rose from underwater and shook his head at Dean. He faltered and Hannah wondered what was wrong.

"What happened?" Hannah asked him, noticing that Jake Devins was gone.

"He sacrificed himself," Dean answered solemnly. "Come on, let's get out of this fucking lake."

He climbed out onto the dock. If the circumstances were different, Hannah would have stayed for a swim, but she reluctantly followed Dean out.

"Oh," he slipped out when she stood in front of him.

"What?" Hannah noticed where his gaze was. He quickly averted his eyes from the sight of her when she caught him, and Hannah gasped sharply. "Dean, you are such an asshole!"

"Don't get mad at me!" Dean yelled then gestured to her breasts. "They're right in my face!"

Hannah crossed her arms and turned away, scowling. It left her face when she noticed Andrea sobbing as she held Lucas in her arms. Her father just died and she and Dean were arguing like children.

Sam climbed out a moment later and bent down near Andrea, murmuring something in her ear that made her cry harder. Hannah remembered what Dean had told her earlier. _We can't save everybody_.

* * *

><p>"Sam, Hannah, Dean," called a familiar voice.<p>

Hannah looked up from her phone and smiled when she saw that it was Andrea and Lucas. He was carrying a tray of sandwiches.

"Hey," Dean greeted, slamming the trunk shut.

"We're glad we caught you. We just, um, we made you lunch for the road," Andrea explained.

"Can I give it to them now?" Lucas asked, tilting his head up at his mom.

"Of course." Andrea smiled. She kissed the top of his head and watched him bound over to the Impala with Dean.

"How are you holding up?" Sam asked her softly.

"It's just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?" Andrea replied, candid.

Hannah chewed her lower lip while Sam sighed, both feeling an equal amount of guilt.

"Andrea, I'm sorry," Hannah blurted out.

Andrea shook her head. "You saved my son. I can't ask for more than that," she said then smiled weakly. "Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that."

Hannah and Sam walked back to the Impala while Lucas went over to Andrea's side. Dean glanced at Hannah then at Andrea. Hannah smiled and gave a subtle nod, letting him know that he could do whatever he needed to do. She tilted her head upwards, preferring to look up at the clouds as Andrea and Dean kissed. Hannah heard Sam laugh beside her.

She looked back down when Sam nudged her. Dean was already sliding inside the driver's seat. Pushing the passenger seat forward, Hannah climbed in the backseat, careful not to accidentally sit on the sandwiches Dean and Lucas placed back there.

They waved goodbye to Andrea and Lucas as they drove away. Hannah was settling in the backseat and about to open one of her books when she felt the car slow down.

"What happened?" she asked, confused.

"You said you wanted to go to the movies," Sam reminded, looking at her. "You _do _remember saying you wanted to see _Harry Potter_, right?"

Hannah blinked then felt a smile spread across her face. She leapt forward and pulled both Sam and Dean into a hug. Sam laughed and Dean shook his head, smiling as Hannah practically bounced inside the movie theater.


	5. Phantom Traveler

**Author's Note: **Thank you everyone for reading the last chapter! Special thanks to my new followers: _Imou_, _beautifulwhitehorse_, _Mmartin0049_, _hinata-hi_, _lostfeather1_, _Buru-beri-chan,_ _EleanorParks_, _Scion of Vengance_, _itsreagann_, _FreedomWriter15_, _Kaikitty165_, _magic-clever-clover_, _sunshine1984_, _Jill1146_, _Acey-Deucy_, _LoveMcSteamy_, _Smileyface98_, _Raqui98_, and _okgurl87_. Another thanks to _hinata-hi_, _wolfenergy17_, _lostfeather1_, _Scion of Vengance_, _Buru-beri-chan_, _EleanorParks_, _FreedomWriter15_, _Igor De Souza Santos_, _Kaikitty165_, _magic-clever-clover_, _AnnieAC_, _Raqui98_, _RonnieH_, and _hrodenhaver_ for favoriting this story. Lastly, thank you _Selina_ and some guests for reviewing.

Please enjoy and review this chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>4.<strong>

**Phantom Traveler**

Hannah flinched awake when she heard the door to their motel room slam shut. Sam's voice rang harshly in her ears, sounding too cheerful this morning.

"What time is it?" she heard Dean ask groggily.

"Uh, it's about five forty-five," answered Sam.

She groaned and rolled over onto her stomach, rubbing her face into her pillow. Hannah didn't want to get up, not at five forty-five _in the morning_, but she managed to pull herself out of bed.

"Where does the day go?" Dean groaned, sitting up. "You okay there?"

"Huh?" Hannah tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes, but to no avail. She collapsed on Dean's bed, groaning.

"Well, that was... dramatic," quipped Dean. When Hannah opened her eyes again, Dean was looming over her face. He smiled lazily before moving back as Hannah slowly sat up, propping herself up with her elbows. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours," Sam replied vaguely.

"Bullshit," Dean instantly said. "Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial."

"What were you doing at three in the morning?" Hannah inquired, curious.

"That's not important." Dean averted his eyes from her, and that only made Hannah more curious.

"Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV," Sam said, a mirthless smile playing on his lips.

"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep, Sam?" Hannah asked, looking up with concerned eyes.

"I don't know, a little while, I guess," he faltered, the false smile vanishing from his face. "It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is," Hannah insisted, her voice doused with worry. "Do you know what happens to someone who's deprived of sleep, Sam?"

"Look, I appreciate your concern—" Sam started.

"Oh, I'm not concerned about you," interrupted Dean offhandedly. "It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp."

"What's my job?" Hannah yawned.

Dean rolled his eyes at her while Sam chuckled. "Your job, Princess, is to keep _Sam's _ass alive and to stay sharp, so keep reading those boring books of yours."

"Oh." Hannah nodded then frowned when she let what Dean told her sink in. "Hey, my books are not boring."

"Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?" Dean asked, ignoring Hannah.

Sam hesitated then crossed over to sit beside Hannah on the bed. She and Dean peered at him, waiting patiently for his response. He handed Dean a cup of coffee and Hannah a cinnamon roll covered in icing.

"Yeah," he finally said. "But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. Man, it gets to you."

"You can't let it. You can't bring it home like that," Dean told him. Hannah nodded in agreement, taking a small bite out of her cinnamon roll.

"So, what? All this—" Sam gestured around him. "—it never keeps you up at night?"

Dean shook his head.

"Never?" Sam stared at him in disbelief. "You're _never _afraid?"

"No, not really."

"Hannah?"

"Hm?" Hannah looked up from her cinnamon roll, licked the icing off her lips.

"Are you ever afraid?" Sam repeated, his green eyes searching hers.

"Sometimes," she admitted softly. "But you can't live life in fear of everything."

"Oh yeah?" Sam reached over and grabbed something from under Dean's pillow. He held up a large hunting knife.

"That's not fear. That's precaution," Dean responded then took the knife from him. "And Hannah kept a freaking machete under her pillow at _five _years old."

"Alright, whatever. I'm too tired to argue," Sam relented.

Hannah regarded him, wondering if she should talk to him about this later or maybe even just between the two of them. She was worried about Sam, and was unsure of how to help him. Could you help someone who didn't want to be helped?

Dean's phone ringing interrupted her thoughts. She continued eating her cinnamon roll, half listening to whatever Dean was saying.

"This guy, Jerry Panowski up in Pennsylvania, wants to talk about something worse than a poltergeist in person," Dean explained, getting up from his bed.

"Another eight hours of listening to AC/DC," Hannah sighed, getting up as well. Sam chuckled and began packing his things.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for making the trip so quick," said Jerry after greeting them in front of the aircraft warehouse. "I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out."<p>

"Yeah, he told us," replied Sam. For the whole trip, Dean had informed him and Hannah about the poltergeist case a few years ago. "A poltergeist?"

"_Poltergeist_?" echoed a worker from afar. "Man, I love that movie."

"Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep working," Jerry upbraided then turned back to Dean. "Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?"

He addressed the last part to Sam who seemed surprised. "Yeah, I was," Sam eventually said, "I'm taking some time off."

"Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time," Jerry lauded.

_He did? _Hannah thought, exchanging a surprised look with Sam.

She remembered each time the Winchesters came over, Sam would be brooding over whatever fight he just had with his father. Sometimes, Sam would vent to Hannah about how unfair his father was and that he favored Dean over him. Hannah hoped John didn't favor one son over the other because that was cruel.

When Sam voiced Hannah's thought, Jerry grinned and said, "Yeah, you bet he did. Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?"

Dean and Sam shifted uncomfortably while Hannah played with her hamsa amulet. The older Winchester was ultimately the one to answer Jerry.

"He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now," Dean fibbed. Actually, John _was _wrapped up in a job right now, but that one was hunting whatever killed Dean and Sam's mom.

Jerry didn't seem notice how tense everyone was. "Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and..." He gave Hannah a once over. "This beautiful lady. Hannah was it? Which one of you is the lucky guy?"

"What?" Hannah flushed red.

"Oh, none of us are dating her," Sam explained, sounding awkward. "She's like a sister."

Hannah and Dean nodded in agreement, both too embarrassed by the question. She couldn't even imagine dating either of them. The thought of dating Sam... Hannah shuddered, it was too icky to even entertain. It was like incest. The same went for Dean. They were total opposites.

"Well, their loss right?" Jerry smiled at Hannah then gestured for them to follow him. "I got something I want you guys to hear."

"_Your loss_," Hannah mouthed to Dean with a smile. He rolled his eyes and shook his head at her. They ended up in Jerry's office where they gathered around a CD player.

"I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley," Jerry told them as he placed a disk into the CD player. "Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours."

Leaning in close, Hannah listened to the recording. "_Mayday! Mayday!_" exclaimed a frightened voice, but it was difficult to hear through the static. "_Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485, immediate instruction help!_" There was a pause then a monstrous growl. The recording stopped, and Hannah sat up, glancing at the boys.

It didn't sound like a ghost. Hannah had dealt with two ghosts and none of them sounded this inhuman, but what else could haunt a plane?

"Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure, cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board and only seven got out alive. The pilot's name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh... well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault."

"And you don't think it was?" Hannah questioned.

"No, I don't," Jerry answered, earnest.

"Jerry, we're going to need to passenger manifests, and a list of survivors," Sam said.

"Can we take a look at the wreckage?" Dean added.

"The other stuff is no problem, but..." Jerry hesitated. Hannah felt her lips tug downwards at the pause. "The wreckage, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance."

Dean glanced at Hannah and Sam, an impish glint in his eyes, then flashed a smile. "No problem," he said. "We'll let you know when we figure out more things, Jerry."

Jerry nodded and walked them out of the warehouse. Hannah gave Dean a questioning look when he draped his arm over her shoulders.

With a grin, he asked her, "How do you feel about Homeland Security?"

* * *

><p>"This is pretty illegal, even for us," Sam muttered to Hannah who was sprawled in the backseat. They had been researching the flight while Dean had acquired their false IDs.<p>

"I know, but Dean is pretty adamant about this," Hannah replied then squinted her eyes at the print of the magazine she was reading. "Did you know that Heath Ledger is going to be a gay cowboy?"

"What?" Sam asked, turning around to look at her.

"Yeah, some movie called _Brokeback Mountain_ is coming out in December and he's a gay cowboy."

"Uh..."

Luckily, their conversation ended when Dean slid in the driver's seat and handed her and Sam IDs.

"Alright, so what do you guys got?" Dean asked.

"Well, there's _definitely _an EVP on the cockpit voice recorder," Hannah said, sitting up.

"Listen." Sam pressed play on the tape, and she and Dean leaned towards him to hear it.

The familiar static sound surrounded the Impala, then something nightmarish hissed, "_No survivors_."

"'No survivors'?" Dean repeated, his eyebrows furrowed as he leaned back in his seat. "What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors."

"Got me." Sam shrugged.

"So... what? A haunted flight?" Dean questioned.

"I mean, there's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like flight 401. Remember that?" Hannah said.

"Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights," Dean remembered.

"Maybe we have a similar deal," Sam suggested.

"_Or _it could be like _Final Destination_ and Death is stalking the survivors!" Hannah suddenly proposed.

Dean and Sam stared at her with blank expressions on their faces.

"I don't think it's that, Han," Sam told her gently. "Anyway, we need to talk to the third survivor on the list. Max Jaffey."

"Why him?" Dean asked him.

"Well, for one, he's from around here, and two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did," Sam said matter-of-factly.

"What makes you say that?" Dean challenged. Hannah held up the list and showed him Max Jaffey's address. "Oh. Well, whatever. Let's just get this done."

* * *

><p>After showing the receptionist at the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital their badges, a nurse led them through the corridors to the outside garden where a dark-haired man sat on a bench.<p>

"Mr. Jaffey, you have some visitors," said the nurse. "I'll be inside."

"We're with Homeland Security," Sam explained, flashing his badge.

"I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security," Max Jaffey said, confused. He stood up unsteadily, using a cane to keep himself from falling.

"Right, but some new information has come up," Hannah replied, smiling kindly. "So, if you could just answer a couple questions for us, we'll be out of your hair."

Dean snorted, but hastily covered it up with a cough when Hannah elbowed him.

"Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything unusual?" Sam questioned.

"Like what?" Max asked, frowning.

"Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices," Dean listed.

"No, nothing." Max shook his head.

"Mr. Joffey—" Dean started.

"Jaffey," Max corrected.

"—Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right?" Dean asked him. When Max nodded, he continued, "Can I ask why?"

"I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash," Max said defensively.

"And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?" Dean queried, sounding similar to Sam the day before.

Max glanced at all of them, his face paler than before. "I... I don't want to talk about this anymore," he sputtered.

"See, I think maybe you did see something up there and we need to know what," Dean said lowly.

"No, no. I was delusional. Seeing things," Max said, shaking his head. He seemed close to getting upset.

"It's okay," Hannah murmured soothingly. "Then just tell us what you _thought _you saw."

He glanced at the three of them warily, fear plain on his face. Nevertheless, he forced himself to speak.

"There was... this—man. And, uh, he had these... eyes—these, uh... black eyes. And I saw him—or I _thought_ I saw him..." Max hesitated and only continued after Hannah nodded her head encouragingly. "He opened the emergency exit. But that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door."

"Yeah," Sam mumbled then cleared his throat. "This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?"

"What are you, nuts?" Max laughed nervously. Sam tilted his head, coming close to reminding this man that _he _was the one who checked himself into a psychiatric hospital. "He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me."

"Well, I think we have enough information," Dean declared then smiled thinly at Max. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Joffey."

"Jaffey," Max corrected, exasperated.

"Yeah, I know," Dean muttered as they walked away from him. "Guys got any ideas as to what the hell we're dealing with?"

"Well, we know it can take human shape, has enhanced strength, and black eyes," Hannah noted then paused. "You guys don't own suits, do you?" She frowned when Sam and Dean shook their heads. "Okay, well, you guys talk to the next person on the list while I get you guys some suits from a rental shop."

"Why?" Dean whined.

"Because if we're going to be Homeland Security, we have to _look _the part," Hannah told him then added a rather immature, "Duh."

Dean glared at her, but Sam seemed to agree with Hannah.

"And besides, you'd probably both look like the Blues Brothers if you got to choose your own suits," Hannah teased, giggling from the dark looks she received from both Winchesters. "I'm kidding! Jeez."

They dropped her off at the nearest rental shop while they went to go speak to George Phelps' wife. Hannah raised an eyebrow at the shop: Mort's For Style. She would have preferred Men's Wearhouse, but she wasn't exactly Paris Hilton at the moment.

Hannah browsed the less-than-impressive selection of suits until she found acceptable ones. One was a woolen charcoal gray while the other was navy blue. She told the person at the register that she'd pay once Sam and Dean returned to get fitted.

In the meantime, Hannah played on her Motorola RAZR until the boys finally showed up thirty minutes later. She smiled widely when the boys stepped out of the dressing room in their rented suits, both looking devilishly handsome.

"You guys look really good," Hannah remarked, nodding appreciatively at them.

"I do look good, don't I?" Dean agreed, adjusting his tie in front of the full length mirror. "Nice work, Princess."

"I am _not _your princess," Hannah hissed then turned to Sam. "I'm going to get some more professional looking clothes to change in then we can go."

"And why didn't you just change here while you waited for us?" Sam questioned.

She blinked then scowled. "Not everyone is as logical as _you_, Sam."

Sam laughed.

* * *

><p>Dressed in a long-sleeved, flat collared woven white blouse with a low V-neckline tucked into some black slacks and black stilettos, Hannah felt like she worked in an office as an executive. She felt so professional, and when she said so, Sam had to ruin it by reminding her that they weren't actually Homeland Security.<p>

The security at the warehouse didn't even bat an eye when they showed them their badges. Hannah scanned the warehouse, her eyes falling on the plane wreckage. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Dean pull out a walkman.

"What is that?" Sam asked, curious.

"It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies," Dean answered, staring at Sam oddly.

"Yeah, I _know_ what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted up walkman?" Sam said.

"'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade," Dean replied with a grin.

"Seriously?" Hannah pried the walkman from his hands and inspected it. "That's so cool, Dean!"

"Really?" Dean sounded surprised at her enthusiasm.

Hannah nodded, her eyes wide. "Really impressive. Not everyone can make an EMF out of a walkman," she said, flashing him a smile. "You should show me how you did it."

She handed it back to him and saw that Dean's grin broadened. They continued walking among the plane wreckage, Hannah watching Dean who ran the EMF over the wreckage. Sam paused and gestured to the emergency door handle with dust coated on it.

The EMF spiked loudly when Dean ran it over the dust.

"What is this stuff?" Dean asked no one in particular.

"Gross," Hannah uttered after swiping some off her index finger and sniffing it.

"Only way to find out," Sam said, pulling out a knife. He scraped some of the dust off with it.

The three froze when they heard footsteps bustling from the corner. Dread spread throughout her and Hannah wondered if this was the day she would go to prison. _I never thought going to prison would be a constant fear of mine_, Hannah thought dispassionately.

Sam took her wrist and led her to the exit where the three of them couldn't be seen by security. Hannah held her breath as she listened to the sound of guns cocking. After a minute, she and the boys peered around the corner to see if all of them were gone.

As casually as she could, Hannah walked between Sam and Dean with an air of nonchalance. That disappeared as soon as the alarms inside the warehouse started blaring loudly.

They ran towards the gated exit, Hannah nearly tripping in her stilettos. She made a mental note that next time they posed as feds, she wouldn't wear such skinny heels. The color drained from her face at the sight of the barbed wire on the gate.

Dean pulled off his jacket and tossed it so it covered the barbed wire. He climbed first over the gate then Sam went. Hannah chewed her lower lip, afraid that she'd hurt herself with the barbed wire, but willed herself to climb after tossing her stilettos to Sam.

"Well, these monkey suits _do_ come in handy," Dean commented, grinning at them.

Hannah suppressed her laughter as she ran back to the Impala bare-footed.

* * *

><p>"Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur," Jerry said, leaning back from the microscope.<p>

"You're sure?" Sam asked.

"Take a look for yourself." Jerry shrugged, moving aside to let Sam inspect the dust they brought back.

Hannah and Dean exchanged an amused glance from the loud banging coming from outside, followed by someone cursing. Jerry sighed and excused himself to deal with it, saying he had an "idiot" to fire.

"You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue," Dean said as he made his way over to the microscope.

"Demonic possession?" Sam supplied.

"I think so," Hannah murmured, squinting her eyes at the dust. "It would explain everything Max Jaffey told us so far."

"If the guy was possessed, it's possible," Sam agreed, crossing his arms.

"But this goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?" Dean pointed out.

Hannah looked up at him. "Demons _are _hateful. Maybe this particular demon has it out for airplanes," she suggested.

"That's stupid," Dean scoffed.

"You're stupid," Hannah retorted.

"Guys, _both _of you are acting stupid," Sam cut in before another insult could be thrown in. "Dean, have you ever heard of something like this?"

"Never," Dean replied. "Alright, well, looks like we're spending our night researching. How fun."

"I can't wait," Hannah said, smiling genuinely.

"I was being sarcastic," Dean told her.

"Oh." Hannah felt heat rush to her face. "Shut up."

Dean snorted at her lame comeback and led them back to the Impala. Hannah suggested they get take-out from a nearby Thai restaurant, yearning for something different than their everyday burgers and fries. Sam agreed wholeheartedly and offered to get it while Hannah and Dean started on the research.

Sam dropped them off at the library for books on demonic possession. Hannah suppressed a smile from the frown etched on Dean's face. She knew he hated researching the old fashioned way. Hannah on the other hand, _loved _going to the library.

"Okay, we need to find books on demonic possessions from different religions," Hannah told Dean. "I say we get books from Christian, Hindu, Muslim, and Japanese beliefs. Do you want to find a specific book or should we find them together?"

There was a dazed look on Dean's face. He blinked his eyes repeatedly then mumbled something.

"What?" Hannah frowned, unable to understand what he was saying.

"Let's just find the books together, alright?" Dean grumbled, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Hannah beamed and cheerfully searched the library for the various books they needed while Dean trailed behind her. It didn't take long since Hannah figured out quickly where the books were kept.

"Do we _really _need all these books?" Dean complained, carrying most of the books in his arms.

"We need to be thorough," Hannah replied then reached for another book. "Are you not this thorough during other hunts?"

"No, but we've been fine so far," Dean retorted, rolling his eyes. "Did you forget that we have Sam's computer?"

"No," Hannah chirped. "I think we have enough books."

"Finally," he sighed, adjusting the books in his arms.

They returned to the motel when Sam picked them up from the library. Hannah spread out the books on the edge of her and Sam's bed and put a few on Dean's bed before grabbing her take-out box of Thai food.

Hours passed as they researched in silence. Sam would sketch different symbols and post them on the wall along with the articles of airplane crashes they printed from the library before going back to his laptop. Dean read with surprising focus and Hannah wanted to say something, but refrained from doing so, knowing that Dean would take her compliment the wrong way.

Their concentration did not last long, though. Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed while leaning over to read one of the books on Hannah's. He would, at the most random times, poke her. When she would look up, he would refuse to meet her eye and pretend he never poked her. It was so childish, but Hannah didn't feel like getting into another petty fight with Dean, so she allowed this twenty-six year old man to poke her.

"So," Sam said, breaking the silence. "Every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it."

"Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this," Dean remarked.

"Well, that's not exactly true," Sam said, rubbing his jaw. "You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease..."

"And this one causes plane crashes," Hannah finished, smiling at Sam. He smiled back.

"Alright, so... what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?" Dean questioned as he stood up from the bed.

"Yeah." Sam nodded then frowned. "You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?"

There was a look of disbelief on Dean's face as he shook his head, turning away.

"What?" Hannah asked him.

"I don't know. This isn't our normal gig," Dean answered, looking back at her and Sam.

"And what qualifies as 'normal' for you, Dean?" Hannah inquired, interested.

"You know, ghosts, ghouls, all that other crap. Not demons that take down planes," he explained. "I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big." He looked down at his feet, and said quietly, "I wish Dad was here."

Hannah felt her heart crack from the absolute pain in his voice. She knew that while Dean liked to joke around and act carefree most of the time, he was silently unhappy over their lack of clues on finding John Winchester.

Sam seemed to understand as well, nodding his head a little. "Yeah, me too," he murmured.

There was a brief moment of uncomfortable silence, but the sound of Dean's phone changed the atmosphere once more. Hannah was relieved, hating to see Dean and Sam so upset.

"Another crash?" Sam questioned when Dean finished his call with Jerry.

"Yeah. Let's go." Dean was already headed out the door.

"Where?" Hannah asked.

"Nazareth," he replied without looking at her.

* * *

><p>Hannah gasped when she saw the black smoke in the distance as they neared the crime scene. She tried not to appear too startled as she and the boys entered the scene, showing security their badges briefly before checking out the crashed plane.<p>

Collecting some evidence, they headed to the warehouse so they could meet up with Jerry.

"Sulfur?" Dean asked when Jerry finished studying the substance in the microscope. Jerry nodded and Dean scowled. "Well, that's great. All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him."

"With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case, that would be the good news," Sam said.

"What's the bad news?" Dean asked. Hannah felt her stomach drop when she let the realization sink in, exchanging a worried glance with Sam.

"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight, and so did flight 2485," Hannah answered, chewing her lower lip.

"Forty minutes? What does that mean?" Jerry asked, confused.

"It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death," Dean told him.

"I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in," Hannah informed them.

"Any survivors?"

"No, or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason."

"On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?" Sam said.

"'No survivors'," Dean and Hannah repeated.

Everyone was quiet, all lost in their own thoughts until Dean spoke.

"It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job," Dean realized. Hannah met his eyes, widening her own.

"We have to go, Jerry," Hannah suddenly said. "Come on, guys."

They walked at a brisk pace back to the Impala. For the whole day, they drove around to the remaining survivors residing in this city and convincing them not to take board on any flights anytime soon. It was nightfall by the time they finished calling the other survivors out of state.

"Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks," Sam said before hanging up his phone. "Alright, that takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon."

"So our only wildcard is the flight attendant Amanda Walker," Dean said.

"Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight pm. It's her first night back on the job," Sam informed them.

"That sounds like just our luck," Hannah mumbled, leaning back and crossing her arms. "This is a five-hour drive, even with Dean behind the wheel."

"Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass," Dean grumbled, accelerating the Impala a little.

"I already left her three voice messages," Sam replied, annoyed. "She must have turned her cellphone off. God, we're never going to make it."

"We'll make it," Dean snapped.

"Don't worry, Sam," Hannah said, smiling a little. "All we have to do is not let Amanda get on that plane."

"What? Are you suggesting kidnapping?" Sam teased.

"No!" Hannah laughed. "But I wouldn't cross that off the list."

Sam and Dean shared a bewildered look that made Hannah laugh harder.

"Oh, good, she's joking," she heard Dean mutter.

* * *

><p>After an unsuccessful attempt at stopping Amanda Walker by pretending to be a doctor on the phone, Sam decided that they needed to do plan B: get on the plane.<p>

Dean wasn't excited to get on the plane. He was actually terrified at the prospect of flying on a thing that could easily crash and kill everybody on board. He didn't want to get on that plane, but he couldn't let Sam and Hannah do this alone so he forced himself to purchase a plane ticket and board the plane.

He bounced his knee nervously, wondering where the hell Hannah was. She had disappeared the moment Sam said they needed to get on board, telling them that she'd meet up with them soon.

"Just try to relax," Sam advised quietly.

"Just try to shut up," Dean snapped without looking up from the safety pamphlet he was reading. "Dude, do you think Hannah ditched?"

"No. She wouldn't do something like that," Sam answered, glancing around.

_Calm down, Winchester_, Dean told himself. He hummed the lyrics to _Fade to Black_ to relax himself.

"You're humming Metallica?" Sam questioned incredulously.

"Calms me down," Dean replied defensively.

"Look, man, I get you're nervous, alright? But you have to stay focused," Sam said, staring at him. "I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism."

"Yeah, on a crowded plane. That's gonna be easy," Dean said derisively. "Where the fuck is Hannah?"

"Refreshments?" asked a familiar, feminine voice.

Dean and Sam looked up, and the former felt his mouth go dry. It was Hannah, and she was dressed in the red stewardess uniform. Her silky brown hair was swept into a mid-high ponytail, and there was a flush to her face, like she had been running.

He glanced at her buxom chest then back up at her. "Do you have any milk?" he asked innocently.

Sam elbowed him in the ribs, making him twitch to the side. Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to Hannah who seemed oblivious at the suggestive comment.

"How did you...?" Sam gestured to Hannah's uniform.

"Um, I said I needed to go undercover since we're on high alert for another plane crash," Hannah explained, leaning down so she wouldn't be overheard. "The badge helped." She stood up and handed the boys cups of water. "Meet me in the bathroom in five and fill me in."

"Got it." Sam nodded, and Dean watched Hannah walk down the aisle offering refreshments to the other passengers. "Who do you think it's possessing?"

Dean gulped down the small cup of water, still nervous as hell. He thought for a moment, taking in deep breaths.

"It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness," Dean murmured. "You know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress."

"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up," Sam remarked.

"Alright, well, I'll let Princess know and maybe she can see if Amanda is possessed," Dean said then hesitantly unbuckled his seatbelt. "I brought holy water too, so maybe Hannah can toss some on her."

"No." Sam took the bottle of holy water from Dean and stuffed it in the pocket of his hoodie. "I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God."

"Oh. Nice," Dean said, getting up.

"Hey," Sam called.

"What?" Dean looked at him.

"Say it in Latin."

"I know."

"Okay, hey."

"What?" Dean hissed.

"Uh, in Latin, it's Christo," Sam told him in a rather patronizing tone.

"Dude, I know!" Dean snapped, annoyed. "I'm not an idiot."

Dean made his way down the aisle and nearly had a heart attack when the plane shook. Once he was positive that the plane was stable, he continued over to the bathroom where he found Hannah waiting.

They looked around to see if anyone was watching before slipping into the bathroom. It was already cramped with one person, but it felt like a claustrophobic person's nightmare. Dean inwardly cursed at his body's inappropriate reaction to Hannah's body pressing against him as she tried to get to the other side of the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" was the first thing she asked.

"No," Dean admitted then cleared his throat. "Look, we think Amanda might be the one who's possessed."

Hannah frowned. "I spoke to her and she definitely isn't possessed. I even said Christo" she said.

"Damn," Dean muttered. He fished for his EMF meter in his pocket and handed it to Hannah. "Here. It'll look less strange if a stewardess is walking up and down the aisle with it."

"Thanks." Hannah paused, staring at him with those doe eyes. "You'll be fine out there?"

He shrugged, not even trying to deny his fear of flying anymore.

"Well, Dean, just think about what your dad would do in this situation," Hannah advised, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"He wouldn't let his fears get the better of him," Dean said quietly, mostly to himself. "You know, I never thought you'd be the type to join the Mile High Club."

Hannah rolled her eyes and gestured for him to leave the bathroom. Dean smirked and slipped out the bathroom unnoticed. The plane shook once more and Dean scrambled to hold onto something. When the plane stopped shaking, he realized he had been clutching Hannah.

She grinned and Dean immediately removed his arms from her. Did she have to be so happy about it? _What a weirdo_, Dean thought, returning to his seat next to Sam.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes passed when Hannah met up with the boys again near the bathroom. She informed them that she received no readings on the EMF meter from the passengers.<p>

"How much time we got?" Dean asked, nervous.

"Fifteen minutes. Maybe we missed somebody," Sam answered, looking behind him at the passengers.

"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane," Hannah suggested then smiled sheepishly. "Or maybe that's just wishful thinking."

"I'm willing to believe that!" Dean exclaimed, eager to agree with Hannah than Sam.

Hannah looked down when she heard the EMF meter spike just as the copilot exited the bathroom. She nudged Dean who noticed the EMF meter as well.

"Christo," he said calmly.

The copilot stopped on his way to the cockpit to look at them. His eyes flashed pitch black as he opened the door to the cockpit and entered. Hannah exchanged alarmed glances with Sam and Dean.

"Uh... what do we do now?" Hannah asked, her voice pitching a little higher.

"We need to speak to Amanda and tell her what's going on," Sam replied.

"And tell her what? Jump out the plane?" Hannah questioned, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Tell her everything," Sam said.

"She's not going to believe this," Dean muttered, but they followed Sam as he approached Amanda.

"Hannah, I see you've made new friends," Amanda said, smiling politely at the boys. "I hope the flight is not too bumpy for you guys."

"Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about," Dean said as Sam closed the curtain behind them.

"Um, okay. What can I do for you?" Amanda asked, wary.

"Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole 'the truth is out there' speech right now," Dean told her in a hushed voice.

"We know you were on flight 2485," Hannah blurted out.

The smile on Amanda's face fell, and there was a distrusting look in her eyes.

"Who are you guys?" she demanded.

"Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure," Sam continued, ignoring her question.

"We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now," Dean said, his eyes boring into Amanda's.

"I'm sorry, I—I'm very busy. I have to go back—" Amanda sputtered out as she tried leave, but Dean stopped her.

"We're going to hurt you," Hannah assured her. "But please listen to us. The pilot in 2485, Chuck Lambert. He's dead."

"Wait. _What_?" Amanda was shocked.

"He died in a plane crash. Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?" Dean questioned, tilting his head.

"Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too," Sam said, urgency thick in his voice.

"Amanda, you _have_ to believe us," Hannah pleaded.

Amanda hesitated, a pained look crossing her features. "On... on 2485, there was this man. He... had these eyes."

"Yes!" Sam nodded encouragingly. "That's exactly what we're talking about."

"I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?" Amanda asked, confused.

"Bring the copilot back here," Hannah instructed her.

"Why? What does he have to do with anything?" Amanda creased her brows.

"We don't have time to explain," Sam said, getting impatient. "Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit."

"Do you know that I could lose my job if you—"

"Well you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't help us out," Dean warned.

"Okay," Amanda relented then hesitantly made her way over to the cockpit.

Hannah and the boys readied themselves. She flipped the pages to John's journal until she found one labeled **Exorcism**. While she never dealt with a demon before, Hannah could speak near perfect Latin thanks to her dad's rigorous teachings. He wanted Hannah to be prepared.

The copilot finally arrived, unaware of the holy water in Sam's hands.

"Yeah, what's the problem?" he asked.

Dean surprised him with a punch to the face, effectively knocking him to the floor.

"Wait! What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him," Amanda gasped, watching as Dean wrapped duct tape over the copilot's mouth.

"We're going to talk to him," Dean replied, keeping the demon still. It twisted its body in pain when Sam splashed some holy water on him.

"Look, we need you calm," Sam told Amanda. "We need you outside the curtain. Don't let anybody in, okay?"

"Amanda," Hannah said, looking up at her. "Breathe. You need to calm yourself, okay? Can you do that, Amanda?"

Amanda looked at the demon then back at Hannah, giving her a shaky nod. She left them and stood outside the curtain to prevent anyone from coming in.

"Ready?" Hannah asked, watching as the demon thrashed against Dean.

"Yes!" Dean and Sam both yelled.

Hannah began reading in Latin, struggling to keep her voice from raising so no one could overhear them. She stopped, gasping when the demon suddenly knocked Dean away from him and ripped the tape off his face. He grabbed Sam by the collar of his hoodie and jerked him forward.

"I know what happened to your girlfriend!" the demon exclaimed, malice clear in his tone. "She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!"

Sam sat, stunned by the demon's words. Hannah scrambled over to the demon and kneed him in the throat. Dean managed to hold down the demon once more, and Sam seemed to snap out of his daze.

Clearing her throat, Hannah continued the exorcism and finally finished the first part of the exorcism. The demon's host convulsed until black smoke rushed out of his mouth.

"Fuck! Where did it go?" Dean shouted, looking around wildly.

"It's in the plane," Sam answered then froze when the plane began shaking. "Hurry up, Hannah, and finish it!"

The plane suddenly dipped so violently that the journal was knocked out of Hannah's hands. She tried to retrieve it, but was thrown back into the wall. Dean was breathing so rapidly and shortly that it worried Hannah, but she needed to focus on finishing the exorcism.

Taking his hand, she gave it a squeeze before reaching over him for the journal.

"Dean," she said quietly. "It's going to be okay."

Without another word to him, she continued the exorcism over the sounds of the passengers' screams. There was a light that shot through the plane like a lightening bolt then slowly, the plane stopped shaking and became stable once more.

Hannah could hear everyone asking each other if they were okay. Sam let out a relieved sigh before pushing himself off the floor. She turned to Dean who was still grasping her hand.

"We did it," she whispered, smiling excitedly. "Can you believe it? I did my first exorcism! Can you imagine how proud Daddy will be once he hears about this?"

Dean snorted, letting his head roll back and hit the wall. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty proud myself. Thanks for not letting us die."

"It actually wasn't that bad, dealing with a demon and all," Hannah remarked, thoughtful.

"Yeah, just wait until we have another demon case, Princess, and you'll regret saying that shit," Dean said, chuckling. "Come on. I want to get off this death trap."

Hannah grinned and accepted his outstretched hand, squealing slightly from how Dean was able to pull her off the ground with one arm. She stumbled towards him then immediately took a step back, feeling heat spread to her cheeks.

He stared at her before shaking his head, chuckling.

"You are such a dork," he told her, barely even flinching when Hannah slapped his arm.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, the plane landed and everyone was ushered out to safety. Hannah quickly changed into her regular clothes before leaving the plane. The feds, ambulance, and FAA were there speaking and helping everyone. Hannah, Dean, and Sam managed to slip away and head back to the Impala.<p>

"You okay?" Dean asked Sam.

"Guys, it knew about Jessica," Sam said slowly.

"Sam, these things lie. They enjoy the pain of others," Hannah reassured him. "That's all it was."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, staring at his brother with a worried expression on his face.

"I guess you're right," Sam ceded, but he didn't sound convinced.

Hannah looped her arm with Sam's. "Come on," she murmured, urging him along.

Jerry found them and led them to his hangar. He looked like he didn't know what to say.

"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed," Jerry finally said. He shook each of their hands, and directed the next thing he said to Sam and Dean. "Your dad's going to be real proud."

"We'll see you around, Jerry," Sam responded.

"You know, Jerry," Dean suddenly said, making Jerry pause. "I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I've only had it for six months."

"Your dad gave it to me," he answered.

"What?" Sam snapped his head in Jerry's direction.

"When did you talk to him?" Dean demanded.

"I mean, I didn't exactly _talk_ to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call," Jerry explained then offered a mild wave. "Thanks again, guys."

Hannah was bewildered by this new information. It made no sense. They had been trying to reach John ever since they went to Stanford to get Sam. Each time, he wouldn't answer. Sam was voicing Hannah's very thoughts, gesturing angrily.

Dean pulled out his phone and dialed his dad's number. He put it on speaker so Hannah and Sam could hear the voicemail.

"_This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help_."

There was a pregnant pause. Sam scowled and gestured for Hannah to climb in the backseat before he sat down in the passenger seat. Hannah obliged only after seeing the furious look in Sam's eyes.

_If John is telling people to call his son, then what exactly is he doing?_ Hannah wondered as Dean drove away from the airport. She just hoped it wasn't anything suicidal.


	6. Bloody Mary

**Author's Note:** Thank you everyone for reading the last chapter! A big thank you to _flailingwailing_ for being my super awesome beta. Special thanks to _Mitsuyuki-Hime_, _alwaysremembergirlcode_, _girlsacred_, _KitKatsGirl04_, _nrepmk_, _Homohominilupus, Reading rocks 2014_, _jgriffith4456_, and _hannahroll816_ for following. Also, thank you _Mitsuyuki-Hime_, _alwaysremembergirlcode_, _girlsacred_, _KitKatsGirl04_, _Dame-Of-The-Living-Dead_, _Homohominilupus_, _Reading rocks 2014_, _UnderARainbow_, _jgriffith4456_, _fantasyluver714_, and _hannahroll816_ for favoriting. Lastly, thank you _RebornRose1992_ and _gottahavekyuubi_ for reviewing!

Please enjoy and review this chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>5.<strong>

**Bloody Mary**

"You're going to be okay," he said, though Hannah wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

"It hurts," she whimpered then cried out when she saw how bloody Dean's hands were. "Am I going to die?"

"No," he said, pulling her closer. "Just stay with me, Hannah. A few more steps then we'll get in the car and I can take you to the hospital."

Hannah sobbed and started to see black spots. It felt so cold, and Hannah could barely keep herself conscious. She was losing so much blood... The last thing she heard was Dean calling her name.

"Hannah?"

"Huh?" Hannah sat up abruptly and hastily wiped the drool away from the corner of her mouth. "Are we here?"

Dean stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face. She smiled sheepishly and tried to smooth down her tousled hair.

"First Sam, now you?" Dean muttered as he turned back around. "Bad dream?"

"It was more of a memory than dream," Hannah said then yawned, arching her back. "Sam, was it about... you know, _her_?"

Sam nodded, staring at the building ahead. Hannah frowned, wishing he would just talk to them, but then again, she couldn't say anything against Sam's refusal to open up. After all, Hannah hated whenever someone brought up the vampire job she and Dean did years ago.

She saw the sign on the building and blanched when she read it.

"We aren't visiting the _morgue_, are we?" Hannah asked, hoping it wasn't for what she thought it was.

"Yup. Welcome to Toledo, Ohio," Dean replied, unbuckling his seat belt.

"So, what do you guys think _really _happened to this guy?" Sam questioned, glancing at Dean and Hannah.

"That's what we're here to find out," Dean said as he stepped out. He stuck his head back in the car when Hannah didn't come out. "Aren't you coming?"

As much as Hannah didn't want to examine a corpse, she willed herself to climb out of the Impala and follow the boys inside the hospital. She beamed up at Sam when she felt him give her a comforting pat on the back.

The corridors leading to the morgue were empty. That only served to make Hannah more nervous as they approached one of the two desks in the waiting room. She glanced at the empty desk, her eyes flitting to the nameplate.

"Hi," Hannah greeted, smiling politely.

The person sitting at the morgue tech desk looked up from his phone and nearly dropped it. His eyes raked over her figure, and Hannah hoped he was admiring her clothes and not her body. _Wishful thinking_, thought Hannah dispassionately.

Really though, he _should _have been admiring her clothes. She was dressed so cute today, even if she was just visiting the morgue.

"Hey," the morgue tech said, smiling widely at her. He seemed oblivious to Dean and Sam standing behind her. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," Dean said, loud enough to gain the morgue tech's attention. He stepped in front of Hannah and took control. "We're the, uh, med students."

"Sorry?" His expression was a mixture of doubt and surprise.

"Oh, Dr. Figlavitch didn't tell you?" Dean feigned surprise, but his act was less than convincing. "We talked to him on the phone. We're, uh, from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper."

The morgue tech glanced at Hannah and Sam who both shrugged helplessly.

"Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch," he informed them. He didn't seem to believe Dean at all, not that Hannah blamed him. Dean was a terrible actor.

"Oh well he said, uh—" Dean struggled to think of another excuse then waved his hand dismissively. "—oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?"

"Sorry, I can't," he replied curtly. "Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want."

Hannah shot Dean a pointed look. He narrowed his eyes at her then turned back to the morgue tech.

"An hour? We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then," Dean said, glancing at Sam and Hannah for confirmation.

"Yeah," Sam uttered, nodding his head. He leaned down and muttered to Hannah, "Please do something before we get kicked out."

"What he's trying to say is—" Hannah pushed Dean aside and stood in front of the desk. "—is that this paper is half our grade and I _really _want an A on this assignment, so can you _please _show us the body? Please? It would really mean a lot to me."

He stared at her, his Adam's apple bobbing. She pulled her lower lip back with her teeth, giving him a pleading look. Finally, the morgue tech sighed and stood up, motioning for them to follow him.

"Thank you so, _so_ much!" Hannah exclaimed, bouncing on her feet.

"No problem," he muttered.

She was about to follow him, but Dean grabbed her forearm and held her back.

"What?" she asked.

"Why did you do that? I had it under control," Dean said, petulant.

Hannah suppressed a giggle. "Dean, you looked ready to hit him in the face," she said, unable to subdue her smile. "I don't really think that counts as having it 'under control'."

Dean rolled his eyes and let go of her arm. They walked alongside each other as they caught up with Sam and the morgue tech.

"The only reason he agreed to show us the body is because of those doe eyes of yours. Disappointing you is like killing Bambi," Dean remarked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"No, he agreed to show us the body because of how cute I look today," Hannah corrected, gesturing to her woven burgundy surplice front tank top, black cable knit dolman cardigan, black jeans, and tall dark riding boots.

"Can you really call a gremlin _cute_?" Dean questioned, smirking. He dodged her incoming slap and stood on the other side of Sam who glared at the both of them.

She gave Sam an apologetic smile then turned her focus back to the morgue tech. He offered her a small smile which she returned. His face flushed red as he pulled out the body.

"Now, the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding," Sam stated.

"More than that." The morgue tech pulled back the sheet and Hannah cupped her mouth shut to keep from screaming. "They practically liquefied."

It was true. Steven Shoemaker's eye sockets were an empty mess filled with dried blood. Hannah was used to seeing gruesome things like this in _films_, not in real life. Bile rose in her throat, and Hannah swallowed thickly.

"Any sign of a struggle?" Dean's deep voice snapped Hannah's attention away from the grisly corpse. "Maybe somebody did it to him?"

The morgue tech shook his head. "Nope," he answered. "Besides the daughter, he was all alone."

"What's the official cause of death?" Sam asked mechanically.

"Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure," he replied, uncertain.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, frowning.

"Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen," he responded with a lopsided grin.

"What would cause his eyes to go like _that_?" Hannah questioned.

"Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims," the morgue tech told her.

"Yeah? You ever see exploding eyes?" Dean demanded.

"That's a first for me," he admitted, still grinning. "But hey, I'm not the doctor."

"Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh... our paper," Dean proposed. Hannah chewed her lip, suppressing another giggle at his cocksure attitude.

The morgue tech looked at Hannah instead and smiled flirtatiously.

"Think I could get your number?" he inquired, his gaze wandering from her face to her legs and boots.

"Oh." Hannah blinked in surprise. "Um, sure."

"Uh, Han—" Sam started, but Hannah brushed him off and wrote down her number in swirly numbers then added a heart at the end of her name.

"Thanks, Alison," the morgue tech breathed then went to retrieve the police report for them.

"_Alison_?" Dean and Sam echoed.

She winked at them and waited patiently for the morgue tech to return. When he did, Hannah forced a coquettish grin and thanked him for letting them look over the police reports. He looked so smug as he showed them the way out that Hannah had to refrain from rolling her eyes.

"So, _Alison_, care to explain why you just gave away your number to some random asshole?" Dean questioned when the morgue tech was out of earshot.

"I didn't actually give him _my_ number. I gave him an old friend of mine's number," Hannah explained then laughed. "I wish I could see the look on that guy's face when he calls Jeremiah..."

"Jeremiah?" Sam asked, raising his brows at her.

"Friend from college," she answered absently. She read the report then handed it to Sam. "So, what do you guys think?"

"Might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing," Sam said after reading the report.

"How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and _not_ some sign of an awful supernatural death?" Dean responded, staring at Sam incredulously.

"Uh, almost never," Sam replied, abashed.

"Exactly," Dean said, smiling triumphfully.

"Alright, let's talk to the daughter," Sam decided.

"Think these Shoemakers can fix up one of my shoes?" Hannah joked.

"Lame," Sam said, though he chuckled at her corny joke.

* * *

><p>Hannah immediately felt uncomfortable once she and the boys entered the Shoemaker home where everyone was dressed in black suits and dresses.<p>

"We are _so _underdressed," she whispered to Dean and Sam.

"At least you look cute, though," Dean said, though his smile was less than sincere.

They walked past the other mourners until Sam touched a man's shoulder lightly.

"Excuse me; do you know where Mr. Shoemaker's daughter is?" Sam asked him.

The man nodded and pointed to a teenage girl with short, flippy black hair and younger girl with long brown hair sitting with two other girls in the backyard. Hannah felt bad for what they were about to do, but it needed to be done.

They approached the girls and Dean was the first to speak. "You must be Donna, right?" She nodded.

"We're really sorry for your loss," Hannah told her. Sam and Dean nodded sympathetically.

"Thank you," Donna said. Her face was ashen, and Hannah just wanted to hurry this up so they wouldn't further bring this girl pain.

"I'm Sam, this is Dean and Hannah." Sam pointed to the three of them. Hannah offered her a mild wave and a kind smile. "We worked with your dad."

"You did?" Donna stared at them skeptically.

"Yeah. This whole thing..." Dean looked around at everyone dressed in funeral clothes. "I mean... a stroke."

One of Donna's friends, a pretty girl with long blonde hair, snapped her head up and narrowed her eyes at Dean.

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now," the girl said sharply.

"It's okay. I'm okay," Donna assured her, letting out a shuddering breath.

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness, migraines?" Sam asked Donna, ignoring the startled look she gave him.

"No." Donna shook her head.

Hannah noticed that the youngest of the girls looked at them, a haunted expression on her face. _She knows something_, Hannah realized, not taking her eyes off the girl.

"That's because it wasn't a stroke," the young girl said boldly.

"Lily, don't say that," Donna admonished, glaring at her. She turned back to Hannah and the boys. "I'm sorry. She's just upset."

"No, it happened because of me," Lily insisted.

"Lily," Sam said in a low voice. He went over to her and crouched down so they were eye to eye. "Why would you say something like that?"

Lily hesitated, glancing at the other girls before meeting Sam's eyes again. She seemed to be debating whether to disclose whatever information she had with this stranger, but Sam had this trustful openness to him. The puppy dog eyes helped too.

"Right before he died... I said it," Lily confessed.

"You said what?" Sam asked.

"Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror," Lily whispered then after a pregnant pause, added, "She took his eyes, that's what she does."

Hannah tensed. She knew Bloody Mary was just a legend, but for her, it was an awful childhood memory.

She remembered it vividly. Hannah had been eight years old, friendless and lonely. Dean and Sam were out on the road and hadn't visited her in seven months, so she felt even more alone. Shannon, the most popular girl in her grade, had sought Hannah out and invited her to hangout with her small group of friends during recess. Hannah had thought she was actually fitting in.

But no, things never worked out for her. Shannon and her three other friends pressured her into saying Bloody Mary in the girls' bathroom. They had turned off the lights and locked her in there. Hannah had been stuck in the girls' bathroom for the whole day until the janitor found her crying in one of the stalls and comforted her.

She never saw Bloody Mary, though. Hannah guessed that was a good thing.

"That's not why Dad died," Donna reassured her little sister. "This isn't your fault."

"No, I don't think so," Lily murmured, looking down at her feet.

"Well, we give you our condolences," Sam said, standing up. "Come on, guys."

Silently, they went back inside and slipped upstairs. Hannah could feel her pulse quicken as they neared the bathroom where Donna's father died. She widened her eyes when Sam pushed the door open to see some dried blood on the tile floor.

"The Bloody Mary legend," Sam murmured as he crouched down to get a better look at the blood. "Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?"

"Not that I know of," Dean replied, stepping passed Sam into the bathroom. "What about you, Princess?"

Hannah entered the bathroom, shutting it behind her. She crossed her arms as she leaned against the door.

"I played Bloody Mary when I was eight years old," she told them, looping a lock of hair behind her ear. "But nothing happened. I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play it, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it."

"Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening," Dean suggested. Hannah pointed at him and nodded her head agreeing.

"The place where the legend began?" Sam asked as Dean shrugged and opened the medicine cabinet. "But according to the legend, the person who says B—" He paused when saw his reflection in the mirror. He shot Dean a dirty look before standing up and shutting it. "The person who says you-know-what gets it, but here..."

"Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah," Dean finished. "Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you-know-who scratches your eyes out."

"You-know-who does not scratch your eyes out," Hannah corrected, "He uses the Avada Kedavra Curse."

"Did you just...?" Sam began to ask, but Hannah cut him off.

"It's worth checking into," Hannah said then opened the bathroom door. "To the library?"

Dean groaned and followed her out. They were about to descend the stairs when the blonde girl from earlier rounded on them.

"What are you doing up here?" she questioned, her voice as sharp as a whip.

"We had to go to the bathroom," Hannah replied, which was half true.

"Who are you?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad," Dean responded, looking at the girl strangely.

"He was a day trader or _something_. He worked by himself," the girl said, staring at them with distrust.

"No, I know, I meant—" Dean stumbled over his words.

"And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming," the girl threatened.

Hannah exchanged a worried glance with Sam and Dean. _Should we_? seemed to be the question going through their heads. Ultimately, Sam was the one to respond to the girl's threat.

"Alright, alright," Sam ceded. "We think something happened to Donna's dad."

"Yeah, a stroke," the girl said, still eying them suspiciously.

"That's not a sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else," Sam confided to her.

"Like what?" the girl asked, curious now.

"Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth," Sam answered, somber.

"So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead," Dean said, gazing about her.

She hesitated, the mistrust in her eyes lessening. "Who are you, cops?"

Sam exchanged amused glances with Dean and Hannah, both who forced themselves to suppress their smiles.

"Something like that," Hannah answered for them, allowing herself to smile. "You know what? If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary, just give us a call."

Hannah gestured for Sam to give her pen and paper. He gave her a look, but reached into his pocket and handed her pen and paper then turned so she could use his back as something to write on. She handed the girl the paper and they walked down the stairs and back to the Impala.

* * *

><p>"Ah, home sweet home," Hannah sighed, smiling broadly when they entered the familiar building.<p>

Dean stared at her quizzically. "'Home sweet home' is the library?"

"I'm like Belle from _Beauty and the Beast_. I love books," Hannah deadpanned. She turned to face them, and walked backwards. "Think guys. How would something like this start?"

"Well, if Bloody Mary is _really _haunting this town then there's gonna be some sort of truth like a local woman who died nastily," Dean started, and Hannah nodded. She loved it when they all brainstormed together.

"Yeah, but a legend this widespread it's hard," Sam pointed out. He saw Hannah's smile falter and he quickly explained himself. "I mean, there's like fifty versions of who she actually is. One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride, there's a lot more."

Hannah lost her footing and nearly tripped backwards. She flailed her arms, trying to keep her balance. When she looked up, she smiled sheepishly and ignored the burning in her cheeks from Dean and Sam's snickering.

Fortunately, they were kind enough to ignore her clumsiness and continued discussing the job.

"So what do we look for?" Dean asked no one in particular.

"Local newspapers and public records of a woman named Mary," Hannah replied unthinkingly.

"Well, that sounds annoying," Dean remarked.

"No, it won't be so bad, as long as we..." Sam paused, and Hannah followed his gaze. All of the computers were out of order. Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "I take it back. This will be _very _annoying."

It took them several hours to collect and check out numerous old newspapers and public records about possible leads. They returned to their motel room and Hannah was determined to figure out who this ghost was so they could salt-and-burn her remains.

She noticed Sam dozing off on their bed, and she nudged Dean whom she sat near on the other bed.

"Maybe he'll actually get some sleep," Hannah whispered.

"Maybe," Dean agreed, barely looking up from an article he was reading. A beat passed before he said, "Hannah."

Hannah stared at him, a little startled by the serious tone in his voice as well as him using her actual name and not her nickname.

"Yes?" she asked, tucking loose locks of hair behind her ear.

"What were you dreaming about earlier?"

"What are you talking about?" Hannah frowned.

Dean looked up, a pensive expression on his face. "You know what I'm talking about, this morning. You were having a bad dream or something, so what was it?"

_Oh. That,_ Hannah thought, realizing now what he was referring to. She didn't want to talk about her dream, but it seemed like Dean was not going to let this go.

"The vampire case we did years ago," she admitted reluctantly.

"Oh," was Dean's response. He swallowed thickly and met her eyes. "Hannah—"

"Its fine, Dean," Hannah said, waving her hands. "Only sometimes I dream about it. It's no big deal."

"You're making me feel like shit," Dean told her. "I never meant for _any _of that to happen, you know. And it's not your fault either. I hope you know that."

Hannah shrugged. It was entirely her own fault why she nearly died during that job, and it somewhat annoyed her how Dean and her dad kept telling her that it wasn't. Why couldn't they let her take responsibility for her foolish actions? It was a stupid mistake, and Hannah was determined not to do it again if they ever encountered another vampire.

"No, listen to me." Dean moved closer to her, and Hannah was a little surprised at how close he was. "It was your first job and I was dumb enough to suggest we split up."

"You're not dumb," Hannah said softly. "I'm fine, Dean."

"Are you really?" he questioned. His green eyes were too focused on hers and Hannah dropped her gaze. "Look me in the eye and tell me you're fine."

"I'm _perfectly _fine!" Hannah exclaimed then cupped her mouth shut. She looked at Sam to see if he had woken up, but he merely stirred, twisting his body until his back was to them. "You are so annoying."

Dean smirked and leaned back, picking up where he left off on the article. Hannah drew her legs up and sat on them as she continued reading about a woman who committed suicide in front of a mirror. There weren't any deaths that fit the Mary they were seeking much to her disappointment.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam woke with a sharp gasp. Hannah and Dean shared worried looks before waiting for Sam to relax. He did after a moment and rolled over, his chest heaving from whatever nightmare he experienced.

"Why'd you let me sleep?" Sam asked hoarsely, sitting up.

"Because I'm an awesome brother," Dean answered flatly.

Hannah rolled her eyes at him then smiled hopefully at Sam. "Did you rest well?"

"Yeah, what did you dream about?" Dean asked nonchalantly.

"Lollipops and candy canes," Sam replied sarcastically.

"Sounds delicious," Dean fired back, just as sarcastic.

"Hannah, did you find anything?" Sam decided to ignore his brother.

"No," Hannah sighed. "We looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a man named Dave, but no Mary."

Sam groaned and fell back on the bed. "Maybe we just haven't found it yet."

"I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area, you know. Eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing," Dean added, frustrated. "There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary."

_Hollaback Girl _by Gwen Stefani jingled in the room, interrupting their discussion. Hannah smiled sheepishly and answered it, trying to ignore the disbelieving looks she received from both Dean and Sam.

"Hello?" Hannah said, wondering who could be calling. She had specific ringtones for nearly every contact in her phone.

"_Is this Hannah_?" asked a hysterical voice.

"Yes, this is she."

"_Look, i-it's Charlie from the funeral_. _One of my best friends just died and I-I_—"

"Tell me where you are."

"_A-At the park_..."

"Listen to me, Charlie. My friends and I will come right now, okay?"

Charlie sniffled and forced out, "_Okay_."

Hannah snapped her phone shut and turned to the guys. "Do you guys remember the blonde girl who was questioning us at the funeral?"

"Yeah, what about her?" Dean asked.

"She says one of her friends just died," Hannah explained, standing up.

"Looks like we found ourselves a new lead," Sam said, getting up as well.

_In the worse possible way_, Hannah thought as she followed the boys out of the room.

* * *

><p>Charlie was a crying mess when they found her sitting on a park bench.<p>

"I was talking on the phone with Jill just a couple hours ago," Charlie told them, though it was difficult to understand her from all the sobbing. "Then her mom called me and told me that she's... she's..." She wept and Hannah put a comforting hand on the poor girl's back. "They found her on the bathroom floor. And her—her eyes. They were gone."

"I'm sorry," Sam said sympathetically.

"And she said it," Charlie continued. Hannah glanced at the guys, both sitting up straighter. "I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?"

"No, you're not insane," Hannah reassured her.

She blinked then started to sob again. "Oh God, that makes me feel so much _worse_."

"Look. We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained," Sam said. somber.

"And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help," Dean assured her.

"What... what do you want me to do?" Charlie asked, sniffling.

"Help us get inside Jill's room," Sam answered then hastily added after seeing her eyes widen. "We need to see if there's anything there to help us stop this... thing from hurting more people."

Charlie nodded and went over to her car. They got inside the Impala and followed her over to Jill's house. Sam set their duffel bag gently on the bed and began rummaging through it as Hannah and Dean looked around.

"What did you tell Jill's mom?" Sam inquired of Charlie.

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things," she answered, fidgeting with her hands anxiously. "I hate lying to her."

"Trust us, this is for the greater good," Dean said as Hannah took the digital camera from Sam. "Hit the lights."

Charlie went over to the light switch and turned it off. "What are you guys looking for?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we find it," Dean replied.

"Put it on night vision," Sam instructed Hannah. She obliged as he pulled out the EMF meter.

Hannah zoomed in on Dean who waggled his brows at her. "Do I look like Paris Hilton?"

"Oh yeah," Hannah said, grinning. "So hot."

Dean snorted at her impression of Paris Hilton. Hannah followed Sam inside Jill's closet and filmed it in case they saw something out of the ordinary.

"So I don't get it. I mean... the first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?" Sam wondered.

"Beats me," Dean said unhelpfully from the bedroom. "I want to know why Jill said it in the first place."

"It was just a joke," Charlie replied in a strained voice.

"Yeah, well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time," Dean declared, watching Hannah drift to the bathroom. "Don't say you-know-who."

"I know, Dean," Hannah drawled, trying not to roll her eyes. She stiffened when she aimed the camera on the mirror, noticing silvery substance trickle down to the bottom of the mirror. "Guys, check this out."

She heard someone leave the room through the window and Hannah turned off the camera and set it on the counter. Dean entered the bathroom and with his help, they lifted the mirror and placed it face down on the bed. Sam returned and ran the black light over it, but found nothing.

Hannah and Sam peeled off the brown paper on the back of the mirror. Sam shone the light over it again, and Hannah chewed her lower lip when they discovered an eerie handprint with a name scrawled underneath it.

"Gary Bryman?" Charlie read, bemused.

"You know who that is?" Sam asked her.

"No." Charlie shook her head.

* * *

><p>"So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy," Sam told them, moving to stand in front of Hannah, Dean, and Charlie, all three who sat on the park bench. "Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry, but nobody got the plates or saw the driver."<p>

"Oh my God," Charlie muttered, horror plain on her face.

"What?" Hannah asked her, concerned.

"_Jill _drove that car," she revealed.

Hannah glanced at Dean, frowning. He flashed a small smile before getting up.

"We need to get back to your friend Donna's house," Dean decided.

"What are you guys going to do?" Charlie asked, looking at them.

"We need to check out their bathroom mirror," Hannah explained, "I know this is an annoying task, but can you distract her for us?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Charlie murmured, nodding her head.

They drove over to Donna's house. Sneaking inside her house was a little more difficult than Jill's, but they made it inside without a hitch. Hannah could hear Charlie downstairs chatting with Donna.

Hunching over the mirror, she waited for Sam to move the black light over the back of the mirror. The same handprint from Jill's mirror was on this one, and another name was scrawled underneath it.

"Linda Shoemaker," Hannah read quietly. "It could be Donna's mother."

"Could," Dean agreed then straightened.

"We need to make sure," Sam said, shutting off the black light. "We need to ask Donna."

Hannah sighed before sneaking out of the house once more and standing to Sam's right as Dean knocked on the front door. Donna answered and seemed surprised to see them again. Dean fibbed something and she stepped aside to let them in.

"We were thinking about your dad today," Dean started, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "And we were wondering if you know a Linda Shoemaker?"

"Why are you asking me this?" Donna asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Look, we're sorry, but it's important," Sam said apologetically.

"Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it," Donna answered, irritated. "I think you should leave."

"Now, Donna, just listen—" Dean tried, but Donna pointed to the front door.

"Get out of my house!" she screamed before promptly running upstairs.

"Oh my God," Hannah heard Charlie mutter. "Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?"

"Maybe." Sam shrugged, glancing at Hannah who was still debating it.

Charlie looked upstairs then back at them. "I think I should stick around."

"Alright. Just, whatever you do, don't—" Dean reminded.

"Believe me, I won't say it," Charlie cut in, paling at the thought.

* * *

><p>For the whole night, they researched Bloody Mary. Nothing in the town archives suggested that any potential Marys died here. Dean and Sam were both frustrated with the lack of information, but that didn't deter Hannah.<p>

She stood; stretching out her stiff muscles then paused when she noticed what Dean was researching on Sam's laptop.

"Wait, you're doing a nationwide search?" Hannah asked, peering over Dean's shoulder at the laptop.

"You are?" Sam asked, confused.

"Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database," Dean confirmed, leaning back in his seat. "At this point, any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me."

"But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town," Sam said rationally.

"I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea—" Dean started then flinched when Hannah suddenly squeezed his shoulder. "What?"

"Both victims had secrets where people died, right?" Hannah said. Dean and Sam both nodded and continued, "So, what if that's the way Mary is choosing her victims?"

"Right," Sam agreed after thinking about it. "I mean there's a lot of folklore about mirrors, that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them."

"Right, right. So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it," Dean deduced then grinned at Hannah. "Aren't you just a Smarty-Pants?"

Hannah merely shrugged, grinning back.

"Take a look at this," Dean said as he printed two pictures. The first photo had a woman lying in a puddle of blood near a mirror while the second photo was a handprint exactly the same as the other they had seen.

"Looks like the same handprint," Sam observed, studying at the pictures.

"Her name was Mary Worthington. An unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana," Dean told them.

"To the Batmobile!" Hannah exclaimed then zoomed around the room to pack her belongings.

"That makes you Robin," Dean said to Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, _you're _Robin."

"_None _of you are cool enough to be Batman!" Hannah said as she retrieved her things from the bathroom.

"Shut up," they both said.

* * *

><p>Driving from Ohio to Indiana would have normally taken three hours, but with Dean's driving, it only took two. Hannah sometimes feared for her life when Dean was in a rush somewhere which was ninety percent of the time.<p>

Hannah felt relieved that they weren't posing as feds again and instead were reporters. There was always that fear in the back of her head that someone would inspect their badges and discover that they were frauds.

The receptionist directed them fairly quickly to the detective's office where they introduced themselves to a middle-aged man. He seemed surprised when they told him they were interested in Mary Worthington's story.

"I was on the job for thirty-five years. Detective for most of it," revealed the detective. "Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder... that one still gets me."

"What exactly happened?" Dean asked him.

"You three said you were reporters?" the detective asked, glancing at them skeptically.

"We know Mary was nineteen," Hannah said, hoping to ease his suspicions.

"Lived by herself, right," Sam continued then listed off several facts about Mary Worthington's life. "We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife."

"That's right," confirmed the detective, sighing.

"See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what _you_ think happened," Hannah explained, meeting his forlorn gaze.

The detective hesitated then reached over to his file cabinet. "Technically I'm not supposed to have a copy of this." He opened the file to the picture Dean had found online. "Now see that there? T-R-E? I think Mary was trying to spell out the name of her killer."

"You know who it was?" Sam asked him.

"Not for sure," the detective admitted. "But there was a local man, a surgeon Trevor Sampson, and I think he cut her up good."

"Why would he do something like that?" Hannah inquired, curious.

"Her diary mentioned a man that she was seeing. She called him by his initial, 'T'," the detective explained. "Well, her last entry, she was gonna tell 'T''s wife about their affair."

_Scandalous_, thought Hannah, straightening.

"Yeah, but how do you know it was Sampson who killed her?" Dean questioned.

"It's hard to say, but..." The detective sighed. "The way her eyes were cut out... it was almost professional,"

"But you could never prove it?"

"No. No prints, no witnesses. He was meticulous."

"Nope," the detective told them. "If you ask me, Mary spent her last living moments trying to expose this guy's secret, but she never could."

"Where is she buried?" Sam inquired.

"She wasn't. She was cremated." Hannah refrained from rolling her eyes in annoyance, keeping her face impassive. This job only got more difficult now that Mary was cremated.

"What about that mirror?" Hannah gestured to the mirror in the picture. "It's not in some evidence lockup somewhere is it?"

"Ah, no. It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago," he answered, staring at them oddly.

Sam managed to get the names and phone numbers of Mary Worthington's family before leaving. Hannah reached for the keys to the Impala when Dean pulled it out of his pocket. She pouted when Dean held it out of her reach.

"Can I drive?" she asked, straining to grab the keys he held above his head. "Come on, Dean. I haven't driven in _forever_!"

"The last time you drove my Baby, you—"

"—Crashed it into a house. I know, you remind me nearly every day. And that was _ages _ago!"

Dean grinned and tossed it higher in the air then snatched it before Hannah could. She scowled at him, hating how short she was. She turned to Sam who had been watching them with an amused expression.

"Sammy, please tell him that _I _should get a turn to drive," Hannah requested.

"Han, he won't even let _me_ drive," Sam reminded her. "What makes you think he'll let you drive?"

"Will you ever let me drive?" Hannah demanded, turning back to Dean.

"Only if I'm dying," Dean replied then pushed his seat forward. "Now, are you getting in or not?"

Hannah rolled her eyes and climbed in the backseat of the Impala. Not that she minded sitting back there, but she longed to be behind the wheel. What good was having a license if you weren't going to use it?

While Sam began calling the list of numbers the detective gave them, Hannah felt her thoughts drift to the time she herself played Bloody Mary.

* * *

><p><em>14 Years Ago<em>

The girls' bathroom was usually abandoned during recess, so Hannah was unsurprised to find no one there when she and the others entered it. Butterflies erupted inside her stomach and she couldn't stop smiling.

For once in her life, the popular girls had invited her, _Hannah_ of all people, to eat lunch and play at recess with them. Hannah usually spent her recess on the swings or reading a book on a nearby bench.

"Have you ever played Bloody Mary?" asked Shannon, the prettiest girl in their grade. She wore the daintiest dresses and always wore the loveliest ribbons in her hair.

Hannah blanched at the question. Bloody Mary was only a legend, Daddy told her so. Despite that, Daddy also told her not to risk saying the ghost's name. She shook her head, and Shannan giggled with her friends.

"Well, that's the only way you'll be able to hangout with us," said Chloe, another friend of Shannon's.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Hannah murmured, shifting on her feet.

"You _don't _want to hangout with us then?" Shannon asked, her voice sharper and no longer giggling.

"No!" Hannah widened her eyes. "I want to hangout with you guys! Please?"

"We have to turn off the lights and we'll be outside while you say it," Shannon told her, leading the others out. "Make sure you say it loud enough for us to hear. Okay?"

"Okay." Hannah nodded, trying to ignore how clammy her hands felt as the lights flicked off and the door shut.

Part of her knew she should listen to Daddy, but another part of her was lonely and Shannon was actually inviting her to hangout. _I bet Dean wouldn't be scared of a ghost_, Hannah thought, knowing that the twelve year old would call her a baby for being afraid of a ghost. He probably killed dozens of ghosts during his travels.

Closing her eyes, Hannah forced herself to say her name loud enough for Shannon to hear.

"Bloody Mary... Bloody Mary... Bloody Mary."

Hannah opened her eyes and saw nothing in the mirror. She sighed in relief, glad to know she didn't summon a ghost. Daddy would have been furious if she had. She walked over to the door and tried to open it, but it was stuck.

"Shannon!" Hannah called, pulling the door handle harder. "I think it's stuck! Can you help me!"

"Nope!" responded Shannon, "Have fun playing with Bloody Mary, _loser_!" Hannah heard her cackle then run off with her friends, all laughing unkindly.

_Loser_.

That was what Shannon called her. She never really wanted to be Hannah's friend. She was just being mean, as always. Warm tears pricked her eyes and Hannah wiped them away angrily. She didn't want to cry. She _hated _to cry. Hannah always felt like such a baby whenever she did.

_I __am_ _a loser_, Hannah thought miserably. She sunk to the floor, hugged her knees, and cried. Why didn't anyone want to be her friend? Hannah was never cruel to anyone of her classmates. Maybe she was too much of a teacher's pet like everyone said.

She didn't know how long she sat on the floor crying, but her crying dwindled to sniffling when the bathroom door opened slowly. Hannah looked up to see only the janitor, a man with hazel eyes, brown hair, and a playful smile. She had seen him around school sometimes, usually listening to his walkman and eating candy.

He pulled out one earbud and tilted his head at her. "What are you doing in here, kiddo?"

"Someone locked me in here," Hannah replied, drying her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

"Well, I guess that explains why there was a broom in the door handle," said the janitor. He joined Hannah on the floor. "What's your name?"

"Hannah... Hannah Singer," she told him hesitantly.

"Ah, so you're a banana, Hannah?" he said, and Hannah smiled. "So, why would anyone want to lock you in here?"

"These girls... they made me think they wanted to be my friend, but they... they called me a loser and locked me in here by myself," Hannah explained, biting her lip to keep from crying again.

"What bitches," the janitor responded after a moment. Hannah gasped, surprised he used a bad word. "Oh, sorry! I forgot you're just a kid. Pretend I didn't just swear, will you?"

She nodded, laughing.

"Listen, Hannah Banana, you are not a loser," the janitor said softly when her laughter died down. "Those girls are just jealous of you. Why else would they pull such a mean trick on a sweet girl like you?"

"Jealous of me?" Hannah echoed, frowning. "I... I don't have any friends, no one wants my company, so why would they be jealous of me?"

The janitor shrugged then nudged her. "Think about it, kiddo. Are you smart?"

Hannah nodded. "The _smartest_. I get A's on every test we take and answer every question the teacher asks correctly."

"Then that's the reason why those girls are jealous," he said, smiling. "And because you're so pretty."

"I am not. Shannon is," Hannah replied, laughing at how absurd his compliment was. She? Pretty? Hannah was a flying monkey from _The Wizard of Oz_ compared to Shannon.

The janitor chortled. "You're funny, kiddo," he said, still chuckling. "No, I've seen Shannon and the only reason she wears those cutesy dresses is to distract everyone from her plain Jane face. _You_ on the other hand have what she lacks."

"Brains?" Hannah guessed, making the janitor laugh even more.

"That to, but I was going to say kindness," he told her then studied her face. "You have stunning eyes. Honest, innocent eyes. Blue as the sunlit sea. When you're older, many men will drown in those eyes."

Hannah stared at the janitor, startled by his sweet words.

He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. Hannah looked and saw that it was a piece of candy.

"Thank you, Mr. Janitor," Hannah said, smiling and feeling much better than earlier.

"No problem, kiddo," he said, getting up. He helped her up and pulled out another piece of candy for himself. "Don't let those girls bother you again, Hannah Banana. Just remember that they're jealous of you."

She nodded and hurried back to her classroom where she had gotten in trouble for missing half of the lesson. Hannah was embarrassed, especially when Shannon smirked at her, but Hannah couldn't forget the janitor's kind words or gentle smile.

It was too bad Hannah never saw him again.

* * *

><p><em>Present<em>

"So?" prompted Dean the moment Sam got off the phone.

"So, that was Mary's brother. The mirror was in the family for years, until he sold it one week ago to a store called Estate Antiques. A store in Toledo," Sam told them.

"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" Hannah asked, leaning forward. "That would explain why Mary's spirit goes wherever the mirror goes."

"Yeah, there is," Sam answered, thoughtful. "Yeah, when someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped."

"So, Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit," Dean said, trying to piece together this case.

"Yeah, but how could she move through a hundred different mirrors?" Sam pondered.

"All we know is that the mirror is the source and we need to destroy it," Hannah decided.

Dean looked back at her with a grin. "That's the spirit!"

Hannah rolled her eyes and settled back against the seat. She just wanted to put an end to this ghost's vengeful attacks.

Sam opened his mouth, but Hannah's phone trilled and she saw a familiar number on the screen. Flipping it open, she answered, "Hello?"

"_Hannah, I-I saw it_," stammered Charlie. "_Donna said it. I'm going to die. Oh God, I'm going to die!_"

"You're not going to die," Hannah reassured her. "Are you at home?"

"_Yeah_..."

"Look, we're on our way back to Toledo right now. We're not going to let you die, alright?"

"_Just... just hurry_."

"Don't look at any mirrors. Cover them if you can."

"_Okay_."

"Charlie saw her," Hannah said as soon as she ended her call. "Ahh!"

Her back collided with the hard seat from the sudden acceleration of the Impala. Hannah scooted over to one side of the car and put on her seat belt then clutched Sam's shoulders as Dean drove faster.

"I think _we're _going to die before Charlie does," Hannah said to Sam. He snorted and leaned over to pat one of her hands on his broad shoulders.

* * *

><p>They picked up Charlie who didn't hesitate to throw herself in the backseat next to Hannah. She put a comforting arm around the blonde teen, and rubbing her back soothingly as they returned to their motel.<p>

Charlie covered her eyes with her hands as Hannah led her inside. Dean and Sam quickly got to work covering every mirror. Charlie sat down on the bed and buried her face in her knees, trembling with absolute fear.

When they finished, Sam sat down next to Charlie on the bed, with Hannah sitting on the other side of her.

"Hey, you can open up your eyes, Charlie," Hannah said softly. "It's okay, alright?"

She slowly looked up and relief was plain on her face when she saw that everything was covered.

"Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you," Sam instructed, giving the poor girl a small smile.

"But I can't keep that up forever," Charlie pointed out. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"No, not anytime soon," Sam said, resolute.

Dean moved to sit down next to Hannah on the bed, leaning forward so he could look at Charlie. "Alright, Charlie, we need to know what happened."

"We were in the bathroom," Charlie explained, glancing between the three of them. "Donna said it."

"That's not what we're talking about," Dean said, and Hannah was certain Charlie knew that. "Something happened, didn't it? In your life a secret where... someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?"

A terrified look crossed her features, but Hannah smiled encouragingly for Charlie to speak. She took a deep breath before revealing her secret.

"I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But... he kind of scared me, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that?" She searched Hannah's face, as if Hannah could explain why she left. "I just... I didn't believe him, you know? I should have."

Then she started to cry and Hannah pulled her into a hug. When Hannah looked at the boys, she froze at the rigid look on Sam's face. _Oh, Sam_, Hannah thought, knowing too well that Charlie's story triggered the sore memory of Jessica.

Untangling herself from Charlie, Hannah stood from the bed and placed her hands on Charlie's shoulders.

"We're going to stop this thing," Hannah told her, determined. "Just... sit tight and we'll take care of it, alright?"

Charlie nodded and watched them leave. Hannah cursed inwardly when it started to drizzle outside. The drizzle turned to outright rain as they drove to Estate Antiques.

"You know her boyfriend killing himself, that's not really Charlie's fault," Dean stated after a moment of silence.

"Well, _we _know that, but Mary doesn't," Hannah replied, bouncing her knee from the anticipation of facing this vengeful spirit.

"You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror," Sam suddenly said.

Dean glanced at Hannah through the rearview mirror then returned his gaze to the road. "Why, what do you mean?"

"Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever?" Sam seemed hesitant before continuing, "So... maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it."

"How do you know that's going to work?" Dean questioned, dubious. Hannah wondered if Dean was pretending to not realize what Sam was trying to say.

"I don't, not for sure," Sam said, shifting in his seat.

"Are _you _going to summon her then, Sam?" Hannah asked, unable to keep this going.

Sam twisted around in his seat to look at her. "Yeah, I will. She'll come after me."

"You know what? That's it!" Dean gave a sharp turn as he pulled the Impala over to the side of the road. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow?" Sam looked down guiltily, and Dean's expression softened. "Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you. Hannah, _please _tell him it wasn't his fault."

Hannah gazed about Dean, her breath lost from the pleading look in his eyes. She looked at Sam and touched his face gently. He averted his eyes from her and Hannah gave his cheek a light squeeze before touching his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Sam," Hannah told him softly. "You have to know that it wasn't your fault, and I'm certain Jessica knows that too. If you want to blame something, blame the thing that killed her."

"Hell, why don't you take a swing at me?" Dean muttered, and Hannah looked at him sharply. "I mean, I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place"

"Dean, it isn't _your _fault either," Hannah admonished.

"I don't blame either of you," Sam said quietly.

"Well, you shouldn't blame yourself, because there's nothing you could've done," Dean said firmly, crossing his arms.

"I could have warned her," Sam murmured.

"About what?" Dean snapped, annoyed with Sam's reluctance to accept that Jessica's death was an accident. "You didn't know what was gonna happen! And besides, all of this isn't a secret, I mean I know all about it. It's not gonna work with Mary anyway."

"No, you don't." Sam shook his head, moving out of Hannah's grasp and turning away to look out the window.

"I don't what?" There was an edge to Dean's tone that worried Hannah.

"You don't know all about it. I haven't told you everything," Sam replied, his eyes flitting to Hannah's through the rearview mirror. She felt like he had told her something before, and was begging her not to speak.

Dean uncrossed his arms and he seemed confused rather than irritated. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, it wouldn't really be a secret if I told you, would it?" Sam remarked, turning to his brother with a mirthless smile.

"No," Dean decided, his irritation returning "I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it."

"Dean, that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this," Sam said steadfastly.

Hannah glanced at Dean, noticing the uneasy look on his face. Without another word, he started the car and they drove in silence. Despite bringing up Jessica, Hannah felt like nothing was resolved. Had Sam told her something? Hannah wished she could remember just what he said. Then again, she wouldn't be able to tell Dean and he would get mad at her. If she _did _tell Dean, Sam would get mad at her. Overall, it was a lose-lose situation and Hannah was bothered that she couldn't remember nor did Sam _want _for his "secret" to be told to his own brother.

They reached Estate Antiques thirty minutes later where Hannah pulled out a bobby pin and crouched down in front of the door. She picked at it for a few seconds before smiling nervously as the door creaked open.

"How do you know how to do that?" Sam asked her.

"Dean taught me," she replied, jutting her thumb out to Dean. "Flashlight, please."

Dean handed her a flashlight and she turned hers on. He and Sam turned theirs on as well and they shone their lights around. Hannah heard Dean groaned at the many mirrors surrounding them.

"Well, that's just great," Dean said through gritted teeth. "Alright, let's start looking."

Drifting away from the guys, Hannah flashed her light around, checking each mirror to see if it matched the one they were searching for. _This seems like the kind of place where the gang from __Scooby-Doo_ _would investigate_, thought Hannah as she checked each mirror.

"Maybe they've already sold it," Dean called from the other side of the room.

"I don't think so," Sam replied. Hannah gripped her flashlight and made her way over to Sam where he stood in front of a particular mirror. Glancing at the photo in Dean's hand, Hannah realized that this was the mirror they had been looking for.

"Are you sure about this?" Hannah asked Sam.

He nodded and handed Hannah his flashlight. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to say, "Bloody Mary... Bloody Mary... Bloody Mary."

Sam picked up a crowbar and readied himself, but nothing appeared. Hannah flinched when she saw a harsh light hit them.

"I'll go check that out," Dean told them then gave Hannah his crowbar. "Stay here, be careful. Smash anything that moves."

"You got it, Fred," Hannah said, smiling.

"Does that make you Daphne?" Dean asked suggestively.

"Dean, the door," Sam interrupted, in a flat voice.

"Right. Thanks for reminding me, Velma." Dean disappeared into the darkness. Hannah shook her head, smiling.

She stood closer to Sam, her heart beating faster with each passing minute. "Do you see her?" she asked him.

"Not yet." Sam moved his flashlight around them, checking each mirror for Mary's spirit.

Then suddenly, Sam lunged for one mirror and smashed it. Hannah shrieked, startled by the loud noise. He smashed another mirror, looking around wildly. She watched, stricken with fear as Sam turned back to the original mirror and dropped his crowbar, as if afraid.

"Sam?" Hannah called out uncertainly.

Her eyes widened when blood began trickling from the corners of his eyes. He doubled over, clutching his chest. Reacting quickly, Hannah raised her own crowbar and shattered Mary's mirror.

"Sam! Are you okay?" Hannah roped one of Sam's arms over her shoulder and helped him to stand.

"Yeah," coughed Sam.

"Sammy! My God, are you alright?" came Dean's voice. Hannah knew he was near, recognizing his musky scent.

"It's Sam," Sam corrected weakly.

"Come on." Dean lifted Sam's other arm and they walked slowly out of the store.

"Wait," Sam suddenly said, freezing when he heard something step over broken glass.

Hannah was nearly pulled to the ground when Dean and Sam both collapsed, their eyes bleeding again.

"Where is she?" Hannah asked, looking around.

Weakly, Dean pointed in front of him. _Mirrors capture spirits!_ Hannah remembered then grabbed a large mirror and faced it in front of wherever Dean pointed. She shoved the mirror to the ground, wincing from the sound of more glass breaking.

She dropped to the ground and used her flashlight to see how badly the boys were hurt. Hannah let out a soundless gasp, horrified from the blood seeping out of their eyes. Dean lifted his head, his body no longer convulsing.

"You alright?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he breathed, slowly sitting up. "Hey, guys?"

"Yeah?" she and Sam both asked.

"This has got to be like... what? 600 years of bad luck?

She and Sam glanced at each other before laughing lightly.

* * *

><p>When they returned to the motel, Hannah made sure Sam and Dean stayed put on the bed as she used a warm, damp washcloth to wipe away the dried blood from their eyes. She could tell they were annoyed with her constant, "Are you <em>sure <em>you're alright?" but Hannah didn't want them hiding any pain from her.

After all, she was the best thing they had when it came to nursing, second only to an actual hospital.

They packed their things and put their duffel bags in the trunk before dropping Charlie off at her house. Hannah wondered what sort of excuse the teen would use to explain to her parents that she had been gone all night.

"So, this is really over?" asked Charlie as Dean pulled up in front of her house.

"Yeah, it's over," answered Dean, nodding.

"Thank you," Charlie said, relief plain on her face.

Dean smiled kindly and reached over in the backseat to shake her hand. She turned to Hannah and hugged her tightly. Hannah was a little surprised, but hugged her back. Sam stepped out of the Impala to let Charlie climb out.

"Charlie?" Sam called, his hand on the opened passenger door. She whirled, waiting for him to speak. "Your boyfriend's death...you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen."

Charlie smiled wanly and waved goodbye before entering her house.

"That's good advice," Dean said, punching Sam in the shoulder. A beat passed before Dean suddenly asked, "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is."

Sam locked eyes with Hannah, and Dean noticed the exchange. Much to her relief, he didn't say anything about it.

"Look, you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself," he responded, staring out the window.

Hannah frowned, wondering what dark secret Sam kept that he was adamant about not revealing to his own brother.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **The reason Hannah used Alison as a fake name is because her face claim is the talented actress Alison Brie. Just letting ya'll know in case the joke was lost on you. Also, for anyone wondering why Hannah's eyes didn't bleed, it's because she doesn't feel guilty for anyone's death (yet). Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you guys review a favorite part from this chapter!


	7. Skin

**Author's Note: **Thank you everyone for reading the last chapter. Again, huge super duper thanks to my beta _flailingwhaling_. I'd like to make special thanks to _shawnspencstarr_, _A Love Affair_, _crazykatz411_, _Bronzelove_, _wideawakepastmidnight_, _TwoHeartedMarauder_, and _yuki0123_ for following; and _crazykatz411_, _wideawakepastmidnight_, _TwoHeartedMarauder_, and _SassGrl23_ for favoriting! Lastly, thank you to _RebornRose1992_, _crazykatz411_, _Tove_, and a guest for reviewing.

Please enjoy and review this chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>6.<strong>

**Skin**

Dean's eyes were fixed on Hannah. She held his gaze, unwilling to look away.

Then she blinked and Dean grinned, whooping over her loss.

"I _told _you I would win a staring contest," said Dean, sliding out of the driver's seat.

"You still suck at rock-paper-scissors," pointed out Hannah, following him out. She stretched her legs, stiff from sitting in the backseat of the Impala for hours.

He rolled his eyes at the reminder. For the past three minutes, they had been playing the staring contest in the parked car, both having been incredibly bored throughout the entire drive. Sam was on his Palm Pilot the whole time, uncaring that Dean hadn't filled the gas tank yet.

"Alright, I figured we'd hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight," Dean told her and Sam as he filled the gas tank.

"Sounds like a plan," Hannah said, leaning against the passenger door.

They turned to Sam, waiting for his response, but he said nothing.

"Sam wears women's underwear," Dean taunted, trying to provoke his younger brother, but had no effect.

"I've been listening," Sam finally said, absently. "I'm just busy."

"Busy doing what?" Hannah inquired, tilting her body until she was leaning over sideways and looking through Sam's window.

"Reading emails," he answered, not looking up from his Palm Pilot.

"Emails from who?" Dean asked, leaning back against the Impala next to Hannah.

Sam glanced out the window at them then chuckled. "You guys are nosy, you know that? They're emails from my friends at Stanford."

"You're kidding! You still keep in touch with your college buddies?" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Why not?" Hannah questioned, straightening. "I still talk to my friends from Chicago."

"You have _friends_?" he asked then laughed when Hannah hit his arm. "Well, what exactly do you tell them, Sam? You know, about where you've been, what you've been doing?"

"I tell them I'm on a road trip with my big brother and best friend from South Dakota," Sam replied, which was partly true. "I tell them I needed some time off after Jess."

"Oh, so you lie to them," Dean concluded.

"No." Sam frowned. "I just don't tell them everything."

"Yeah, that's called lying," Dean said then stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "I mean, hey, man, I get it. Telling the truth is far worse."

"Hannah, do you tell your friends everything?" Sam asked, sounding eager to prove Dean wrong.

Hannah thought for a moment before answering. "Well, I don't tell Faye everything, _but_ I do have a friend who's a psychic so she knows about what I do."

Dean shot Sam a smirk.

"So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?" Sam questioned, looking at his brother expectantly. Dean shrugged and Hannah looked at him, surprised. "You're serious?"

"Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can't get close to people. Period," Dean explained frankly.

She understood where Dean was getting at. Having friends who weren't aware of what lurked in the darkness was always hard to deal with. They either thought you were crazy or joking, usually the former. Still, Hannah liked having friends who were ignorant when it came to monsters. At least she never had to worry about demons or vampires around them.

"You're kind of anti-social, you know that?" Sam told him.

"Yeah, whatever." Dean didn't seem to care that he had no friends.

"I think I know why you have no friends, Dean," Hannah said, looking up at him.

"Enlighten me, Princess," Dean drawled, meeting her eyes.

"Because you probably stole all of your potential friends' girlfriends," Hannah surmised then pinched his arm. "And don't call me princess."

He wrinkled his brows, like he was actually thinking about it. She stared at him, waiting for him to deny her theory, but nothing came out of his mouth. Hannah smiled triumphantly.

"God," Sam muttered.

"What?" Hannah and Dean asked in unison.

"In this email from this girl, Rebecca Warren, one of those friends of mine," Sam said, distraught.

"Is she hot?" came Dean's response. Hannah rolled her eyes and he said, "What?"

"I went to school with her and her brother, Zack. She says Zack's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn't do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case," Sam explained, creasing his brows as he continued to read the email.

"My God, Sam, what kind of people are you hanging out with?" Hannah blurted out, shocked at what he was telling them.

"She's right, dude. Murderers?" Dean was unimpressed.

"No, I know Zack. He's no killer," Sam said defensively.

"Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you," Dean suggested while putting the gas pump back in its place.

"They're in St. Louis. We're going," Sam decided.

"Look, sorry about your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem," Dean told him in a rather patronizing tone.

Hannah grabbed his arm before he could open the driver's door. "Of _course_ it's our problem. These are Sam's friends, Dean."

Dean looked down at her hand then back at her. "Are you serious?"

She gazed about him intently. He stared back, stubborn. Then something shifted in Dean's expression and he tilted his head back groaning. Hannah let a slow smile spread across her face, realizing she had won.

"But St. Louis is four miles _behind_ us," he complained.

"Hey, maybe you'll actually make a friend there," teased Hannah as she climbed in the backseat.

Sam snorted, and Dean shot her a dirty look as he slid in the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition.

* * *

><p>As they pulled up in front of Rebecca's home, Hannah felt a pang of longing for her friends back in Chicago. She knew it was cruel to say that she felt closer to her three college friends than Faye who had been her best friend for over ten years, but it was true.<p>

Magda had been her roommate and there was an instant connection when they first met, probably due to her being a psychic. Magda was the first _female_ friend Hannah had that was her age and knew about the supernatural. When she had told Magda about her troubles concerning the supernatural world, Magda had listened and expressed a certain sympathy that Faye could never could.

Her two other friends did not know about the supernatural, but Hannah still felt close to them. Jeremiah was one of the kindest men Hannah ever met, and always made her laugh. Then there was Leo, second only to Sam when it came to intelligence. Hannah still found it funny how they were practically rivals but were now friends.

The front door swung open, revealing a blonde girl who was just Dean's type. _Here we go_, thought Hannah.

"Oh my God, Sam!" she exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.

"Well, if it isn't little Becky," Sam greeted, smiling back.

"You know what you can do with that little Becky crap." Rebecca feigned annoyance, but opened her arms and the two embraced, laughing.

"I got your email," he explained when they separated.

"I didn't think you would come," Rebecca admitted. She looked past Sam and noticed Hannah and Dean.

Dean stepped forward and smiled. "Dean. Older brother." He and Rebecca shook hands, and he turned to Hannah. "This is Hannah, the best friend."

Hannah smiled and shook Rebecca's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"We're here to help," Sam told her, earnest.

"Whatever we can do, just let us know," Hannah added.

"Come in." Rebecca stepped aside to let them in. Hannah looked around, appraising the splendidly decorated house.

"Nice place," Dean commented, voicing Hannah's thoughts.

"It's my parents'. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened," Rebecca replied, and Hannah could hear the emotion threatening to rise in her voice. "I decided to take the semester off. I'm going to stay until Zack's free."

"Where are your parents?" Hannah asked, noticing how empty the house was.

"They live in Paris for half the year, so they're on their way home now for the trial," she answered as they entered the kitchen. "Do you guys want a beer or something?"

Dean brightened and was about to accept her offer for beer, but Sam cut him off. "No, thanks. So, tell us what happened."

"Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn't breathing." Her voice cracked and tears glistened in her eyes, but she continued recalling what happened. "So, he called 911, and the police—they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could've killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time. The police—they have a video. It's from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight."

_Two places at once?_ Hannah thought, bewildered. What sort of person could be at two places at once? Unless, it wasn't a person and was instead a creature of the supernatural kind.

"You know, maybe we could see the crime scene—Zack's house," Sam proposed.

"Why? I mean, what could you do?" Rebecca asked, wretched.

"Well, me, not much, but Dean and Hannah are cops," Sam said, much to Hannah and Dean's surprise.

"We are?" Hannah whispered to Dean who was just as startled by the ironic lie. "Um, yeah, we're detectives actually."

"Really?" Rebecca had a mixture of shock and solace on her face. "Where?"

"Bisbee, Arizona," Dean lied then gestured to Hannah. "She's located in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, but we're off-duty now."

"Oh." Rebecca blinked and looked back and forth at Hannah and Dean. "You guys aren't...?"

Hannah frowned and asked, "We aren't what?"

"Nevermind. You guys are nice to offer, but I just—I don't know," Rebecca murmured.

"Bec, look, I know Zack didn't do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he's innocent," Sam told her with enough conviction to ease some of her hesitance.

Rebecca looked at the three of them, her eyes searching theirs.

"Okay," she relented, sighing. "Let me go get the keys."

When she was out of earshot, Dean turned to glower at Sam and said, "Oh, yeah, man, you're a real straight shooter with your friends."

"Look, Zack and Becky need our help," Sam stressed.

"I just don't think this is our kind of problem," Dean insisted, shrugging.

"Really, Dean? You don't find it odd that Zack was two places at once?" Hannah questioned, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, we've looked into less."

"You're no help at all," Dean grumbled, but said nothing else when Rebecca returned with the keys.

They drove to Zack's place in uncomfortable silence, especially since Sam offered to sit in the backseat with Rebecca so Hannah was forced to deal with Dean in the front. He seemed annoyed with Hannah the most, probably because she had taken Sam's side instead of his.

Was Dean really that childish? Hannah wondered if she should remind him that she dropped her old life back in South Dakota to _help_ him search for his missing father.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Rebecca asked as Dean parked the Impala near Zack's house.

"Yeah, we're officers of the law," Dean assured her. He winked at Hannah, and she bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Rebecca handed Dean the keys to unlock the front door. He opened it hesitantly and Hannah widened her eyes at the blood coating the furniture and smearing the walls.

"Ladies first," Dean said, gesturing for Hannah to go.

"_Now_ you want to be a gentleman," Hannah remarked, but nevertheless entered first.

"I'm always a gentleman," he replied, smiling at her impishly. "The girls that spend the night with me always leave with a kiss."

"You're disgusting," Hannah scoffed.

"Did you want a kiss too?" Dean asked innocently.

"No, I—" Hannah started to say, but squealed when Dean cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. She wriggled out of his hold and nearly slugged him in the face. "_Don't _do that!"

Dean grinned and looked ready to laugh, but faltered at the sharp look he received from Sam. Hannah blushed, sheepish. She turned to Rebecca, giving her a sympathetic smile.

"Tell us what else the police said," Hannah requested, moving over to stand next to Sam and Rebecca.

"Well, there's no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers are already talking about plea bargain," Rebecca answered, looking around the bloodstained room. She let out a choked sob. "Oh, God..."

"Look, Bec, if Zack didn't do this, it means someone else did," Sam told her gently. "Any idea who?"

"Um, there _was_ something," she remembered, "About a week before, somebody broke in here and stole some clothes—Zack's clothes. The police—they don't think it's anything. I mean, we're not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed."

Hannah flinched when she suddenly heard barking. She walked over to the window near the kitchen and saw a dog barking wildly in the neighbor's yard. Hannah had always wanted a dog, but her dad refused to get one.

"You know, that you used to be the sweetest dog," commented Rebecca, startling Hannah. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

"A little," Hannah admitted, smiling awkwardly. "What happened?"

"He just changed." Rebecca shrugged, crossing her arms.

"Do you remember when he changed?" called Dean from the other side of the room. He joined them by the window.

"I guess around the time of the murder," she answered, staring out the window.

Hannah frowned when she noticed that Sam was nowhere in sight. Excusing herself, Hannah walked around the house until she found Sam in a hallway staring at a framed picture. Her frowned deepened when she looked at the picture.

It was of him, Rebecca, and Zack. The three were grinning and just so happy. The pang of longing Hannah felt earlier for her old friends returned, this time sharper. _I really should call them, or at least email them_, Hannah thought.

Dean found them a moment later and leaned against the wall. "So, the neighbor's dog went psycho right around the time Zack's girlfriend was killed."

"Animals can have a sharp sense of the paranormal," Sam noted, turning away from the photo.

"You know, I told Daddy the same thing and he still refused to get me a dog," Hannah remarked.

"You can't always get what you want, Princess," Dean said, crossing his arms. He ignored the glare Hannah sent him.

"So, you think maybe this is our kind of problem?" Sam asked Dean again.

"No. Probably not." _He's so bullheaded_, Hannah thought, staring at him in disbelief. "But we should look at the security tape, you know, just to make sure."

"Yeah," Sam said, smiling smugly.

"Yeah," Dean said then turned to the sight of Rebecca who approached them. "So, the tape. The security footage—you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, 'cause we just don't have that kind of jurisdiction."

"I've already got it," Rebecca confessed, guilt plain on her face. "I didn't want to say something in front of two cops."

Dean laughed.

"Don't worry, we would do the same thing if we were in your position," Hannah said, smiling. Rebecca smiled back and the four headed back to the Impala.

They got back to Rebecca's fairly quickly and migrated to the living room. She went to get the tape from her room then played it for them. By the time they finished watching the tape, Hannah already had two guesses as to what they were hunting: doppelganger or shapeshifter.

Sam seemed to be on the same page as her because he managed to get Rebecca out of the living room. He rewound the tape then stopped it when Zack looked up directly into the camera, his eyes glinting silver.

"Well, maybe it's just a camera flare," Dean suggested, still refusing to believe that this was _their _kind of problem.

"That's not like any camera flare I've ever seen," Sam remarked.

"You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul," Hannah informed them.

"Remember that dog that was freaking out?" Sam reminded them. "Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack's, something that looks like him but isn't him."

"Like a doppelganger," Dean suggested.

"I was thinking that or—" Hannah started to say but paused when Rebecca returned with their drinks and sandwiches. "Thanks, Rebecca."

* * *

><p>Despite the fact she could barely keep her eyes open, Hannah still sat in the backseat of the Impala applying eyeliner. She wished Sam would let them sleep, but she guessed he probably wanted to continue researching this case since his friend's freedom was on the line.<p>

"Are you almost done?" Sam asked, impatient.

"Yup," Hannah said, snapping her handheld mirror shut and shoving it back in her purse. "Care to explain what we're doing here at 5:30 in the morning?"

"I realized something," Sam said as he stepped out of the car. Hannah and Dean followed him out. "The videotape shows the killer going in, but not coming out."

"So, he came out the back door?" Dean asked, leaning against the hood of the Impala. Hannah sat down on the hood beside him and let her head fall on his shoulder, closing her eyes briefly.

"Right," Sam murmured then thought for a moment. "So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue."

Hannah opened her eyes, but kept her head on Dean's shoulder, too lazy to move. "The police think the killer never left, and they caught your friend Zack inside."

"I still don't know what we're doing here at 5:30 in the morning," Dean grumbled then nudged Hannah. "How are we supposed to get anything done if we're still half asleep?"

"Dunno." Hannah yawned, her eyelids threatening to droop. She squinted her eyes when she noticed something red on a nearby telephone pole. "Sammy, what is that?"

"What?" Sam went over to the telephone pole after Hannah pointed at it. "Blood. Somebody came this way."

Dean gently pried Hannah off him and went to inspect the blood. Hannah didn't want him to go; he made a comfy pillow.

"Yeah, but the trail ends," Dean called from where he was standing. He looked around some more. "I don't see anything over here."

The sound of sirens made Hannah jump, startling her so much she was no longer drowsy. She exchanged a worried look with the boys before scrambling to get back inside the car. Dean hopped into the driver's seat and hastily turned on the ignition to follow the ambulance.

It was a short drive, and Dean parked the Impala across the street. Hannah frowned when they approached the house where the ambulance was, watching as police pulled out the yellow tape. The police guided a man in handcuffs to one of their cars.

"What happened?" Dean asked a woman nearby who was observing the scene.

"He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her," she revealed.

"Really?" Hannah gasped. This only confirmed their suspicions about this being their kind of problem.

"I used to see him going to work in the morning. He'd wave, say hello," the woman continued, disappointment coloring her tone. "He seemed like such a nice guy."

The four of them watched until the man under arrest was driven away. The woman continued her jog, leaving Hannah and the boys to stare at the house.

"Well, I guess I can talk to the cops," Dean offered, turning to them.

"We'll check out the back then," Sam decided then gestured for Hannah to follow him.

Casually, they headed to the back of the house. For awhile, nothing was said as they searched two garbage cans. They found a trail of blood, just like at Zack's, but then it just disappeared much to their annoyance.

Sam stood from the ground he was crouching on, towering over Hannah. She remembered when they were the same height for the longest time then Sam had a growth spurt around sixteen and became a gangly giant. Hannah couldn't talk, though. Puberty hit her in the most awkward places.

"Can I ask you something?" Sam suddenly asked.

"Sure," Hannah replied, turning to him. "What's up?"

"You don't remember me telling you my secret, do you?" Sam said, staring at her.

Hannah hesitated, biting her lip. "I don't remember at all. I have this feeling that you told me something, but I just _can't _remember."

He nodded, and there was a flash of relief crossing his features. "You were probably concussed when I told you, so that explains why you don't remember."

"But you won't tell me again, will you?" Hannah hoped he would.

"Hannah..." Sam winced, as if in pain. "When I told you, it was out of anger and frustration. I didn't even mean to tell you. I... I just can't."

She didn't know what hurt more, that Sam refused to confide in her or that he only let slip his secret out of anger and not because he trusted her.

"Oh. Okay." Hannah gave a nonchalant shrug, forcing a smile so that he wouldn't see how upset she was.

Sam frowned and reached out for her, but stopped when they heard Dean coming towards them.

"Remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem?" Dean said. Hannah and Sam nodded, glancing at each other. "Definitely our kind of problem."

"What did you find out?" Hannah inquired, curious.

"Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene, heard this guy Alex's story," Dean told them. "Apparently, the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked."

"So, he was two places at once. Just like Zack," Hannah noted.

"Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house, police think he's a nutjob," Dean said.

"Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way," Sam murmured, reflective. "Could be the same thing doing it, too."

The three were quiet for a moment before Hannah snapped her fingers, figuring it out.

"Shapeshifter!" she and Dean both exclaimed. He smiled widely and she grinned back.

"Shapeshifter?" Sam repeated, doubtful.

"Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men," Hannah explained, tapping her chin as she thought about it more. It definitely made sense now.

"Right, skinwalkers, werewolves," Dean agreed.

"We've got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessing we've got a shapeshifter prowling the neighborhood," Sam concurred then directed his next question to Hannah. "Let me ask you this—in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?"

"Not that I know of," Hannah replied, crossing her arms.

"We picked up a trail here." Sam led Dean to the trail of blood. "Someone ran out the back of this building and headed off this way."

"Just like your friend's house," Dean realized.

"Yeah, and, just like at Zack's house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is just disappeared," Sam said, sounding frustrated.

Hannah looked down at noticed a manhole. "Well, there's another way to go—down."

Dean and Sam exchanged a wary glance.

* * *

><p><em>At least I can cross 'explore the sewers' off my bucket list<em>, thought Hannah as she and the boys surveyed the shapeshifter's possible hideout. She scrunched up her nose in disgust from the rancid smell, but willed herself to keep walking through the dark tunnel.

"I bet this runs right by Zack's house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around," Sam said.

"I think you're right. Look at this." Dean knelt down and pulled out his knife. He lifted something up with it, and when Hannah and Sam leaned down to examine it, they both recoiled. It was a sticky piece of bloodied skin.

"You know, I just had a gross thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape—maybe it sheds. Like a snake," Hannah said, frowning.

"That is sick," Sam agreed, disgust plain in his tone. "Let's get out of here before the shapeshifter comes back."

Dean flicked the skin off his knife then stood. He and Hannah watched as Sam climbed up first.

"Can you shoot?" Dean asked her.

"Kind of," Hannah replied as she started to climb the ladder.

"What the hell does 'kind of' mean?" Dean questioned below her.

"It means I _kind of _know how to shoot," Hannah fired back then smiled when she saw Sam's outstretched hand. "Thanks."

"No helping hand from you, Sam?" Dean grunted, pulling himself off the ground and covering the manhole with its grating. "I'm only asking because I don't want to get accidentally shot in the ass."

"My aiming _could _use a little work," Hannah admitted as they made their way over to the Impala. "But it's not as terrible as you think it is. Daddy taught me how to shoot when I was thirteen."

"Dad taught me when I was seven," Dean said proudly. He opened the trunk and began pulling out weapons. "Another thing I learned from Dad is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there's one sure way to kill it."

"Silver bullet to the heart," Sam stated then reached into his jacket for his ringing phone. He answered it and walked not too far from them.

Hannah reached for a pistol, ignoring the apprehensive look on Dean's look. She wanted to roll her eyes. Did Dean seriously have such a low opinion of her aiming and shooting skills? Her dad didn't want her to hunt, but he didn't want her vulnerable either, so he taught her how to defend herself.

Shrugging off her black floral print cardigan, Hannah grabbed a shoulder holster and slid it on. She placed the pistol in one of the holsters then put on her cardigan, perfectly concealing her gun.

Dean nudged her and she followed his gaze, frowning when she saw the disappointment etched on Sam's face. Slamming the trunk shut, Dean went over to his brother. Hannah followed, hoping that Dean wouldn't make Sam feel worse.

"I hate to say it, but that's exactly what I'm talking about," Dean told him. Well, Hannah's hopes went right down the drain. "You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they'd be freaked. It's just—it'd be easier if—"

"If I was like you," Sam interrupted, in a flat voice.

"Hey, man, like it or not, we aren't like other people. But I'll tell you one thing." Dean held up a gun. "This whole gig—it ain't without perks."

Sam stared at it then took it. Dean gave him and Hannah flashlights then led the way back to and the sewers. Just when her feet hit the damp ground of the sewers, Hannah pulled her pistol out of her and had it ready as she followed the boys through the dark tunnel, brightened only by their flashlights. She shone the light around them from time to time, making sure the shapeshifter wasn't just hiding in the darkness. Hannah bumped into the back of Dean when he slowed down his pace.

"I think we're close to its lair," Dean said as Hannah stepped around him.

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked, puzzled.

"Because there's another puke-inducing pile next to your face," Dean replied, chuckling when Sam shone his light to the right then jerked away.

"Ew!" Hannah exclaimed, jumping away then shrieked when she felt something sticky touch her hair. She shuddered then paused when she noticed a pile of clothes on the floor. "Looks like it's lived here for a while."

"Who knows how many murders he's gotten away with?" Sam wondered aloud.

Hannah paused when she heard footsteps behind her. She whirled and gasped when she saw silver eyes. The shapeshifter lunged for Dean, punching him so hard he went flying backwards.

"Dean!" Hannah shouted, fumbling to aim her pistol at the shapeshifter.

Sam fired three gunshots while Hannah fired two at the retreating shapeshifter, but it escaped. Hannah tucked her pistol back in her holster and went over to Dean who was doubled over.

Before she could ask if he was okay, he stood and yelled, "Get the son of a bitch!"

She and Sam took off after the shapeshifter, and Hannah was certain Dean was close behind. Climbing quickly, Hannah saw that the shapeshifter left the grating open. Dean grunted as he climbed out.

"Let's split up," Sam decided. "We'll meet on the other side."

"Hannah, if you don't see it in ten minutes, go to the motel. Got it?" Dean ordered.

"Why?" Hannah demanded.

"This shapeshifter likes to harm women. You're vulnerable alone, so just go back to the motel and we'll meet you there," Dean explained then took off before Hannah could further question him.

Sam shrugged and ran the other way. Hannah tilted her head back groaning then continued searching for the shapeshifter.

She didn't understand why Dean was so adamant about excluding Hannah in these hunts. Did he think she couldn't handle it? Sure, she was a rookie compared to them, but with more experience she'd be in the same league as them. How was Hannah supposed to gain this experience if Dean wouldn't _let _her?

After ten minutes, Hannah reluctantly returned to the motel. She and Dean would need to have a talk when this hunt was over.

Opening Sam's laptop, Hannah researched shapeshifters just to see if there was any information she missed. Hannah doubted there were things she didn't know about the creature.

Hannah looked up when she heard the motel room door click open. It was Dean, and he had a sheen of sweat on his tanned skin. She put the laptop on the nightstand and stood, about to greet him when she stopped, noticing that Sam wasn't behind him.

"Where's Sam?" Hannah asked, worried.

Dean looked over his shoulder then turned back to her, surprise crossing his features. "I thought he was behind me."

"You're bleeding," Hannah realizing, noticing the blood stain on his right side. "I'll fix you up after we find Sam."

"No." Dean shut the door behind him. "Just fix me up now then we'll find Sam. I'm sure he's fine."

"You're really bossy, you know that?" Hannah went over to her duffel bag where she kept her medical kit. "Sit down if you're in such a hurry."

"And you call _me _bossy," she heard Dean mutter.

Dean tugged off his shirt, revealing his toned chest. Hannah felt her mouth go dry, but she forced herself to focus on his wound. It looked like a bullet had grazed his side, but Dean had been on the ground when Hannah and Sam were shooting at the shapeshifter.

_Could this be the shapeshifter_? Hannah thought, alarmed. She couldn't kill him, not when she was still unsure and he was so close to her.

Cleaning and bandaging his wound did not take too long. After all, it was just a graze. Hannah's suspicions were confirmed when she got too her feet from being on her knees and Dean grabbed her and pulled her down to his lap.

"Dean!" Hannah gasped, wiggling in his hold.

"I like this shirt on you," Dean told her. He fingered the hem of the black fabric. "What do you call this?"

"A sleeveless turtleneck," Hannah answered, her voice tight. "Can you let go of me?"

His fingers deserted her shirt in favor of her thigh, squeezing her so hard that it was painful.

_This isn't Dean_, she thought, knowing that Dean would never do something like this. He had tried to kiss her earlier, but Dean hadn't been serious about it. Dean liked to tease and bother her much to her annoyance. _This _Dean touched her with a lascivious intent; no amusement in his eyes like Hannah was used to.

"Stop it," Hannah said, trying to get up but he held her still. She froze when his hand moved between her legs.

"You know you want it," Dean growled, his blunt fingernails digging into her jeans. "I know you think of me, _Princess_."

She elbowed him in the face and escaped his hold. Hannah reached for her pistol, but was tackled to the ground. Dean's face loomed over her, his green eyes shifting to silver.

"Where's Dean? And Sam?" Hannah demanded as she wrestled with the shapeshifter.

"Obviously not here, you dumb bitch," the shapeshifter retorted then hit Hannah in the jaw so hard her teeth rattled. "My bad, baby. I want to keep your face as pretty as it is."

Hannah kneed him in the groin and rolled him off her. She grabbed her gun and aimed it at the shapeshifter, but the he lunged for her once more, knocking the pistol out of her hand. He shoved her on the ground, and pressed his knee into her back as he twisted her arm. Hannah cried out, afraid he was about to dislocate her arm.

"Dean doesn't like you," the shapeshifter suddenly said. "You annoy him every time you talk and he just wants to bash your head in."

"No, he doesn't," Hannah forced out, still in pain as the shapeshifter twisted her arm.

"I know his thoughts, sweetheart," the shapeshifter said. "But you're right. He wouldn't do the deed himself. You're worthless to him. You're the last person he would have brought along to help find his shit dad. The only reason you're here is because you're useful." She froze when she felt his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. "And cause you're a hot piece of ass."

Then he grasped her hair and slammed her face back into the ground.

"I thought you said you wanted to keep my face pretty?" Hannah quipped then cried louder when the shapeshifter sunk its fingernails in her arm, breaking her skin.

"Oh, I thought I'd add some blush to those cheeks of yours, babe," he retorted, a sinister tone in his voice. "Sleep for awhile, baby."

Before Hannah could respond, the shapeshifter let go of her arm, rolled her over onto her back and punched her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. The shapeshifter raised her face with its hands then head butted her, and everything went to black.

* * *

><p>Sam looked up when he heard footsteps. His scowl deepened when he saw that it was the shapeshifter still in Dean's form. His eyes widened when the shapeshifter dropped a person on the ground next to him.<p>

"Hannah?" Sam whispered. She didn't move, her body bruised and beaten. Unlike them, she wasn't tied up. "What did you do to her?!"

"Nothing you wouldn't do, Sammy," the shapeshifter replied cheerfully.

"_Don't _call me that!" Sam snarled, thrashing against the ropes. "Tell me you didn't..."

"No." The shapeshifter's eyes shifted to silver. "Not yet, I meant to say. But I have my eyes on that hot blonde. See you around, Sammy."

The shapeshifter disappeared, and Sam clenched his jaw in anger. "Damn it," he muttered. How was he going to get out of these ropes?

His ears perked up when he heard someone coughing in the darker part of the shapeshifter's lair. _Dean_, he realized, glad to know that his brother was okay.

"That better be you, Sam, and not that freak of nature," came Dean's voice after his coughing dwindled.

"Yeah, it's me," Sam said, still trying to break free from the ropes. "He went to Rebecca's looking like you."

"Well, he's not stupid. He picked the handsome one," retorted Dean. If the situation wasn't so dire, Sam would have rolled his eyes and made a witty comment about Dean's ego, but instead he said nothing. "Think Hannah's alright?"

Sam glanced at her unconscious body, swallowing thickly. "The shapeshifter found her, Dean. She's right next to me."

Dean was quiet, but Sam could feel the rage radiating off him in waves. "I fucked up, Sam."

"Dean, how were you supposed to know—?" Sam asked, frowning.

"It's my fault she's knocked out. I told her to go the motel and that only made her _more _vulnerable," Dean said, rueful. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound being them wrestling with their ropes. "So, the son of a bitch walked out of here looking like me?"

"Yeah, that's the thing. He didn't just look like you, he _was_ you," Sam told him. He creased his brows and corrected himself. "Or he was _becoming_ you."

"What do you mean?" Dean questioned, exasperated. Sam heard him finally break free of his ropes.

"I don't know, it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories."

"You mean, like the Vulcan mind meld?"

"Yeah, something like that. I mean, maybe that's why he doesn't just kill us," Sam speculated as Dean walked over to him before crouching down to help untie the rest of his ropes.

"Maybe he needs to keep us alive, like a psychic connection," Dean suggested absently.

He could see that Dean's focus wasn't entirely on untying his ropes. Sam followed his gaze and he felt a mixture of guilt and regret. The last conversation he had with Hannah was about him not trusting her enough to tell her his secrets.

_You're not the only one who fucked up_, Sam thought. He sighed and continued undoing the rest of his ropes since Dean had loosened them for him.

Sam watched as Dean lifted Hannah gently into a sitting position. He was murmuring something to her and Sam felt relieved when he heard her stir and groan. Sam's eyes widened when Hannah's hand flew to Dean's neck, her fingers wrapping around his throat.

"Hannah, it's him!" Sam exclaimed, shocked that she would try to choke Dean.

"It's me," croaked Dean, grabbing Hannah's wrist, but not pulling her away.

Hannah stared, her chest heaving. Slowly, she let go of Dean's throat and leaned back.

"Sorry," she apologized, breathless. "Where's the shapeshifter?"

"On his way to Rebecca's house," Sam answered, staring at her with worried eyes. "Come on, we gotta go. He's probably at Rebecca's already. Can you walk?"

"Yeah." Hannah nodded and pushed herself off the ground. "What are we waiting for?"

"Nothing. Let's go," Dean said, leading the way.

* * *

><p>Hannah poked her head out of the opening of the manhole as she lifted the grating with both hands. She scanned the area, noticing that it was nighttime and they were in an alley. Pushing the grating up and tossing it to the side, Hannah climbed out and the boys weren't too far behind.<p>

Shrugging off her cardigan, Hannah tied it around her waist as they jogged out the alley. Her jaw ached and each time she tightened her belly, it pained her. _I must look awful_, thought Hannah, frowning.

"We gotta find a phone, call the police," Sam said, urgency clear in his voice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean stopped jogging and turned to Sam. "You're gonna put an APB out on me?"

Sam shrugged and apologized for the reckless idea. They continued jogging which turned into a sprint as they made it to the street. Sam filled in Hannah on their theory that the shapeshifter downloaded Dean's memory. That didn't settle well with Hannah who remembered the shapeshifter taunting her in the motel room.

Hannah tried to ignore Dean's concerned glances, but it was hard to when she could practically feel his eyes on her. She needed to talk to him, let him know that this wasn't his fault. If only Hannah could get him alone.

"If we can't call the police, at least let us give an anonymous tip," Sam suggested when they neared a payphone.

"Good idea," Dean said then fished for a quarter in his jeans pocket.

She and Sam leaned against the wall, listening to Dean call in the anonymous tip. He hung up quickly, and Hannah guessed they were starting to ask questions about _him_.

Almost an hour later, they were standing outside of a store window, watching the news report being shown on a display of numerous TVs.

"_An anonymous tip led police to a home in the Central West End, where a S.W.A.T team discovered a local woman bound and gagged_," the news anchor reported. A sketch of Dean appeared on screen. "_Her attacker, a white male, approximately twenty-four to thirty years of age, was discovered hiding in her home_."

"Man, that's not even a good picture!" Dean complained, offended.

"It's good enough," Hannah said as she and Sam glanced around in case anyone noticed Dean. She grabbed his wrist and tugged him along. "Come on."

They headed into another alley where Dean stepped into a puddle, letting out a myriad of curses. Hannah paused and turned to Dean who was shaking the water off his foot.

"They said attempted murder. At least we know—" Hannah smiled a little, but was cut off by Dean.

"I didn't kill her," he interrupted, scowling. His face softened and he ducked his head, refusing to meet her eyes.

"We'll check with Rebecca in the morning, see if she's alright," Sam decided, but Hannah thought that it was a terrible idea.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hannah blurted, looking up at Sam. "She was just attacked by Dean and she's still mad at you. It's just... it just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

Sam frowned, but Dean threw his hands up in frustration. "We visit Rebecca or we don't. I don't really give a fuck! All I know is that I want to find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him."

"We have no weapons. No silver bullets," Sam reminded him harshly.

"Sam, the guy's walking around with my face and beating the shit out of Hannah here. It's a little personal," Dean snapped, fury flickering in his green eyes like flames. "I want to find him."

"Okay," Sam relented, knowing there was no way of talking Dean out of this. "Where do we look?"

"We could start with the sewers," Dean proposed rather eagerly.

"We have no weapons. He stole our guns, we need more," Sam reminded him once again.

"Well, we have _one_ weapon." Hannah bent down and pulled a silver dagger out of her left boot.

A grin spread across Dean's face like a child on Christmas morning.

"But we need more," Hannah said, slipping the dagger back in her boot. "The car?"

"I'm betting he drove it over to Rebecca's," Dean commented, disgust coloring his voice.

"The news said he fled on foot. I bet it's still parked there," Hannah added, crossing her arms.

Dean shook his head and clenched his fist. "The thought of him driving my car..."

"Think about killing him. That'll make you happy," Hannah suggested, smiling when some of the agitation disappeared from his face.

They continued their trek to Rebecca's house. Hannah kept looking around, making sure no one would recognize Dean. Luckily, it was dark and there weren't many people around when they neared Rebecca's neighborhood.

She spotted his car and saw relief grace Dean's features. "Oh, there she is! Finally, something went right tonight," Dean cheered.

Sirens startled them and Hannah held her arm out to stop Dean from going further. Before they could backtrack, another police car blocked the end of the street. Dean motioned for her and Sam over to a fence.

"You guys go. I'll hold them off," Sam said in a rushed voice.

"What are you talking about? They'll catch you," Dean objected, sitting on top of the fence.

"Look, they can't hold me. Just go, keep out of sight. Meet me at Rebecca's," Sam urged then gestured for him to go when he hesitated. "Go!" Hannah was about to follow, but Sam grabbed her forearm and held her back. "Be careful."

Hannah pinched his cheek then ran after Dean, climbing over the fence and following him. He slowed down his pace, waiting for her to catch up. They stopped to catch their breaths in a nearby alley.

The soreness she felt intensified. She nearly doubled over from the pain, brushing her brown hair out of her face. A couple minutes past, and Hannah straightened to see Dean leaning against the wall, panting. This was the perfect time. Hannah had wanted to talk to Dean ever since this hunt started and now she could.

"Dean," Hannah said, her voice breathy. "We should go back to the motel. Change and rest before we go back to the car."

"Right." Dean nodded, standing up.

They walked alongside each other, trying to appear as casual as possible. Dean avoided eye contact with every person they past and kept himself close to Hannah's side. She exhaled, grateful that they made it back to the motel without a hitch.

While Dean showered, Hannah examined the nasty bruise on her jaw in front of the mirror on the wall near the TV. Her eyes widened from the sight, gasping a little when she lifted her black shirt to see the bruise on her belly. Her arm had scratches from where the shapeshifter drew blood. She looked horrible, and these beatings made Hannah want to kill this shapeshifter even more.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in jeans that rode low on his hips and a tight-fitting heathered grey t-shirt. Hannah went to her duffel bag at the foot of the bed she shared with Sam and rummaged through it for some clothes.

"When you're done, let me put some ice on that bruise, alright?" Dean said as she headed to the bathroom.

"Okay," Hannah agreed, but hated how timid she sounded.

The shower took longer than she expected. Hannah had to wash her body gingerly, wincing each time her washcloth touched her bruises. When she dried herself off, Hannah changed into a short-sleeved jersey knit teal shirt with buttons down the front, and dark rinsed skinny jeans. She was squeezing water out of her hair as she left the bathroom. She was promptly seated on the edge of Dean's bed where he gently placed an ice pack over her jaw.

He was never usually this tender with her. Hannah could use one hand to count how many times Dean had been this gentle. It was such a disconcerting change from the playful, eager-to-rile Dean she was used to. Still, Hannah couldn't pretend that she didn't _like _this rare change in him.

"Sam says the shapeshifter downloads the memories of the people he's looking like," Hannah started, forcing herself to bring up what had been on her mind for the past couple of hours.

"Yeah," Dean mumbled, focused on healing her bruise with the ice.

"When the shapeshifter found me, he looked like you," she told him, "He said... he said you hate me."

"What?" Dean snapped his attention back at her words. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She stared at him with wide eyes. "The shapeshifter said he knew your thoughts, said that you thought I was 'worthless' and 'annoying'. He said you 'want to bash my head in every time I talk'. He said that you only keep me around because I'm 'useful'."

"That isn't true," Dean said, holding her gaze. "You know that isn't true."

"Is it though?" Hannah waited for him to answer her.

Dean pulled the ice pack away from her jaw, and the coldness had made her skin numb. Hannah reached to touch her jaw, her fingertips grazing over the bruised skin.

"You _are_ annoying," admitted Dean, and Hannah opened her mouth to protest. "But annoying in the sense that you're just so... _happy_ and _nice_ to everyone, including me, and I've been an asshole to you since the day we met."

That part was true. It was like Dean had made some sort of promise with himself _not _to be nice to Hannah. She would compliment him. He would insult her. She would make a nice comment. He would have a sarcastic remark for her. Hannah persisted, though, refusing to give up on their... _whatever_ kind of friendship they had.

"You're not worthless. You're the opposite of that," Dean continued, pressing the ice pack back onto her jaw. "And I asked you to help me find my dad because I trust you... and I can't say the same for most people."

Hannah wondered if Dean could hear how loud her heart was beating.

"So... you _don't _hate me?" Hannah asked, trying her hardest not to tear her gaze away from his.

"No," he answered, and Hannah believed him. He gave her a cheeky grin. "You're as sweet as pie, and you know I could never hate pie."

She smiled, looking down at her lap. Heat rushed to her cheeks when she remembered what else the shapeshifter had said.

"Um, Dean," Hannah said quietly.

"Yeah?" Dean tilted the ice pack on her jaw.

"The shapeshifter _also_ said that you think I'm a... uh..."

"A what? What else did that asshole say?"

"That you think that I'm a 'hot piece of ass'."

When Hannah looked up, she saw that there was a blank expression on his face. She didn't know whether to laugh or feel _more _embarrassed.

"I mean, he's not _wrong_," Dean finally responded.

"Dean!" Hannah gasped, pushing him away. She stood and was about to retreat to the bathroom where she didn't have to look at Dean.

"No, wait, I mixed up my words!" Dean exclaimed, following her. "You've got a great rack and a nice face, but I don't see you _like that_."

"Just shut up already!" Hannah yelled, slamming the door behind her. She just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her already.

"How do you expect me _not _to notice?" Dean continued from outside the door.

"Oh my God..." Hannah muttered, sitting down on the toilet. "Go away, Dean!"

She heard him lean against the bathroom door. "You don't have to worry, though. I'm not gonna try and, like, fu—"

"Okay, I get it!" Hannah shouted, wanting to tape his mouth shut. "I don't like you _like that_ either, Dean! Now, _please _just shut up."

Dean obliged, but not without hitting the door once. Hannah buried her face in her hands, feeling flustered. Their whole friendship was just plain weird.

* * *

><p>They had stayed up most of the night and before it was eight o'clock in the morning, Hannah and Dean headed back to the car where no police cars were surrounding it. Hannah kept her silver dagger in her left boot, but tucked a pistol in the shoulder holster she wore underneath her dark brown jacket.<p>

Hannah swallowed thickly as they explored the tunnels, her disgust growing the more she saw piles of torn off flesh on the ground. She touched her hamsa amulet, fingering the thin chain. She was afraid of what would happen if the shapeshifter caught her another time.

"Dean," whispered Hannah when she heard something move in a corner nearby.

"Cover me," Dean told her then moved towards the noise.

Slowly, he approached a figure covered with a sheet in the corner. Hannah clocked her gun, ready to shoot if it was the shapeshifter. Dean pulled the sheet off, but it was Rebecca much to their surprise.

Rebecca was bounded to a chair, ropes tied around her feet and wrists. She looked petrified and Hannah immediately the safety on her pistol before tucking it in the holster. Hannah grabbed the knife from her boot and started to cut through the ropes while Dean pulled out his own knife to help.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"I was walking home, and everything just went white," Rebecca explained, crying. "Someone hit me over the head, and I wound up here just in time to see that thing turn into _me_. I don't know. How is that even _possible_?"

"It's okay." Dean told her soothingly. "Can you walk?"

She nodded, and Hannah helped Rebecca up. They walked slowly over to the ladder that led to the opening of the sewers.

"Dean, I just got this crazy thought—what if the shapeshifter is pretending to be _Rebecca_?" Hannah suddenly said, her eyes widening.

"Then we need to hurry before that thing kills Sam," Dean replied, helping Rebecca up as she climbed the ladder.

They rushed to Rebecca's house and as they got to the front door, Hannah could hear Sam's groans of pain. Dean let go of Rebecca and Hannah had to hold her, the girl still weak from the beating she received. He ran inside the house, not even bothering to be quiet.

"Stay here," Hannah told her, helping Rebecca sit down on the bench on her porch.

Hannah pulled out her pistol and entered the house swiftly. She flinched when she heard two gunshots. She ran and came to a halt next to Dean who had his gun still raised. The shapeshifter died in his form.

"Sam!" Hannah cried, rushing over to Sam who was on the floor, breathing heavily. She twined her arms around his neck and he wrapped one arm around her waist. "Tell me where it hurts."

"I'm fine, Hannah," Sam said, but he sounded out of breath.

"Yeah, sure," Hannah retorted, letting go of him. "I bet it's your chest. I have this salve in the car, let me just—"

"I'm _fine_, Hannah," Sam insisted, but she didn't believe him.

Hannah stood and was about to help Sam up, but Rebecca ran over to Sam, her eyes wide with worry. She turned, about to go back to the car when she saw Dean staring at his dead form.

"The son of a bitch stole my amulet," Dean growled then yanked the amulet off the shapeshifter's neck.

"At least it's all over." Hannah smiled softly.

Dean looked at her then back at the shapeshifter. He smiled back and held out his fist. Hannah's smile broadened and she bumped her fist into his.

* * *

><p>"<em>I haven't heard from you in a while, brainiac."<em>

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I've been busy," Hannah apologized. She stood next to Dean who had their map spread out on the hood of the Impala. Sam was talking to Rebecca on the porch of her house. "I've been meaning to call you for the longest time too, but—"

"_Stop babbling, it's not a big deal_," laughed Magda.

"It is a big deal! I've neglected you and you're one of my best friends!"

"_Girl, you are overreacting. I know hunting can make you busy_."

"That doesn't excuse me for being a horrible friend."

"_Just shut up and calm down. You are a not horrible friend, Hannah_."

"Thanks," Hannah said, smiling for a moment before frowning. "Wait, how did you know I was hunting?"

"_Psychic remember? I know these things_."

"Whatever, _That's So Raven_."

Magda laughed on the other line, and Hannah smiled again.

"_Listen, if you're ever in Chicago, just let me know and we can hangout._"

"Definitely."

"_I'll talk to you later, Hannah_."

"Bye, Magda." Hannah snapped her phone and stretched her back, lifting her arms over her head. "So, _Dean-o_, where are we going next?"

Dean gave her an amused look before looking back at the map. "Back to Sioux Falls if you call me Dean-o again."

Hannah laughed lightly. When her laughter died down, she peered down at the map then glanced at Sam and Rebecca who were hugging each other goodbye. Sam came over to them just as Dean began folding the map.

"So, what about your friend, Zack?" Hannah inquired, looking up at Sam.

"Cops are blaming this Dean Winchester guy for Emily's murder. They found the murder weapon in the guy's lair, Zack's clothes stained with her blood. Now they're thinking maybe the surveillance tape was tampered with," Sam explained, and Hannah could see the annoyance brewing on Dean's face. "Yeah, Becca says Zack will be released soon."

Sam grinned, and Dean rolled his eyes.

They all climbed into the car and waved goodbye to Rebecca before driving off. Hannah settled in the backseat, briefly contemplating whether she should take a nap. She hadn't rested well since this whole hunt started and for once, Dean wasn't driving crazy.

"Sorry, man," Dean suddenly said, interrupting Hannah's choice on napping.

"About what?" Sam asked, looking at his brother.

"I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be... Joe College," Dean said, and he sounded quite honest about it.

"No, that's okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in," Sam replied, shrugging.

"Well, that's 'cause you're a freak," Dean remarked then laughed when Hannah slapped his shoulder.

"Yeah, thanks," Sam told him sarcastically.

Hannah leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Sam. "Well, I'm a freak, too, and so is Dean."

"We're right there with you, all the way," agreed Dean, making Sam laugh.

"Yeah, I know you two are," Sam said, but laughed harder when Hannah slapped his head.

"I was only saying that to make you feel better," Hannah huffed, leaning back in her seat.

She wasn't _really _mad, and she was certain Sam knew that. Hannah was just glad Sam was smiling and happy for once.

"You know, I gotta say—I'm sorry I'm gonna miss it," Dean considered.

"Miss what?" Hannah and Sam asked in unison.

"How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?" Dean joked, grinning at the both of them. He laughed when Hannah slapped his shoulder again. "What was that for?"

"Don't joke about those kinds of things," Hannah hissed, but she was grinning.

She and Dean definitely had a weird friendship.


	8. Hook Man

**Author's Note:** Huge thank you to everyone for reading the last chapter! To _flailingwhaling_: you're a great beta. Thank you to _Ikjiris_, _equineprobie, stoxy99_, _Edy 12345_, _Isabella Poulous_, _angelo di tenebre_, _PadfootCc_, _funwithstark_, _The Songbird Still Sings_, _littlemissdeanwinchester_, _loveiswow_, _EllaOwner_, _ShadowHunter19_, and _Elemental Alchemist_ for following; and _Ikjiris_, _maddiempls_, _stoxy99_, _Edy 12345_, _The Songbird Still Sings_, _Carina50_, _SilverMoon100_, _ShadowHunter19_, and _Elemental Alchemist_ for favoriting. Special thanks to _grapejuice101_, _wideawakepastmidnight_, _RebornRose1992_, _bjq_, and _Tove_ for reviewing!

Please enjoy and review this chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>7.<strong>

**Hook Man**

Hannah took a bite out of the cinnamon roll she was eating, closing her eyes briefly as she savored the taste.

"You sound like you're in a porn," drawled Dean, who was sitting beside her while searching for cases on Sam's laptop.

"No, _you_ sound like you're in a porno whenever you eat pie," Hannah retorted after swallowing the piece of cinnamon roll she was chewing.

Dean rolled his eyes, but said nothing in response. Hannah returned to eating her cinnamon roll in silence, smiling. She and the boys were at an outdoor cafe eating breakfast. Sam was at a nearby payphone trying to get information about John Winchester.

Sam walked back over to their table, disappointment plain on his features. Hannah guessed he didn't find out much about his father.

"Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is getting cold over here, Francis," Dean teased, looking up from the laptop.

"Bite me," rejoined Sam as he sat down in his chair next to Hannah.

"So, did you find anything?" Hannah asked, smiling hopefully.

Her smile faltered when Sam shook his head. "I had them check the FBI's Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Doe's fitting Dad's description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations."

"Sam, I'm telling you, I don't think Dad wants to be found," Dean said. He frowned when he noticed the dismay on Sam's face.

"But who's to say that we won't find him?" Hannah told him optimistically. She gestured at Dean to turn the laptop to face Sam. "Check this out."

"It's an article out of _Planes Courier_ from Ankeny, Iowa. It's only about a hundred miles from here," Dean explained, turning the laptop around.

"'The mutilated body was found near the victim's car, parked on 9 Mile Road'," Sam read. He didn't sound terribly interested.

"Keep reading," Dean urged, and Hannah nodded her head encouragingly.

"'Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible'," Sam continued, creasing his eyebrows.

"Could be something interesting," Dean said casually.

"Or it could be nothing at all," Sam countered, leaning back in his chair. "One freaked out witness who didn't see anything? Doesn't mean it's the Invisible Man."

"But what if it is?" Hannah asked him. She let the question hang in the air for a moment.

Dean glanced at her then returned his gaze to Sam. "Dad would have checked it out," was all he said before calling over the waiter and paying for their breakfast.

Sam sighed and followed them out of the cafe and back to the Impala. Hannah offered him a smile which he returned, though his was less enthusiastic. She pulled a brush out of her purse and began brushing and sweeping her hair into a mid-high ponytail as Dean pulled out of his parking spot.

It was quiet for a while, with the exception of the radio playing. Hannah was just about to text her dad when Dean spoke up.

"The victim lived in a fraternity," he informed them.

"Okay," Sam said, shrugging.

"That means _we_ have to stay there—to get more information," Dean elaborated, glancing at his brother.

"Dean, you're twenty-_six_. Don't you think it'll look a little suspicious if you're living in a frat house?" Sam questioned incredulously.

There was an offended expression on Dean's face. "Are you calling me _old_?" he demanded.

Sam looked as if he was suppressing a smile. "I'm just saying that people will wonder why you're deciding to live in a frat house."

"You're not that old," Hannah whispered to Dean.

"Whatever, smartass," replied Dean, disgruntled. "The article also says that Rich was with someone. I'm guessing it was a sorority sister."

Hannah waited for Dean to continue, but he didn't and instead looked at her through the rearview mirror. Realization slowly dawned on her, and Hannah shook her head vehemently.

"Come on, Princess. What's so wrong with living in a house with a bunch of hot young sorority girls?" Dean persisted when he saw the refusal on her face.

"Dean, these are the type of girls I was _afraid _of in high school!" Hannah exclaimed, "Sororities girls are all the popular girls in high school living in one house. They'll eat me alive in there!"

Sam turned in his seat to face Hannah. "Han, I knew a couple sorority girls and they weren't so bad."

"Have you _seen The House on Sorority Row_?" Hannah asked him, her voice threatening to become shrill from how agitated she was becoming.

Dean snorted. "I have," he answered, and there was a hint of lust in his tone. "And how are you more afraid of women your own age than ghosts?"

Hannah crossed her arms in a huff.

"You're not saying anything because I'm right," Dean stated, flashing a smug grin.

He _was _right, but Hannah refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was.

* * *

><p>When she saw the sorority house in the distance, Hannah tried to swallow down her uneasiness. Hannah hoped the girls weren't like anything she experienced in high school, but the fear was still there and it was overwhelming.<p>

The car slowed down, stopping in front of the sorority house. Dean slid out of the driver's seat and Hannah followed him out, waiting for him to unlock the trunk so she could retrieve her duffel bag.

She was about to go, but then Dean grabbed her forearm and pulled her back. His expression shifted into something more serious, and Hannah wondered what he was going to say.

"Let me know if there's a naked pillow fight?" Dean asked, unabashed.

"You're such a pervert," Hannah told him, rolling her eyes. She shrugged off his hand and headed to the sorority house.

There were some girls sitting on the porch reading magazines, one with lustrous black hair and another blonde, her hair resembling spun gold. They were both staring at her, and it took a minute for Hannah to realize that they were appraising her.

The black-haired girl spoke up first. "Can we help you?"

"Yeah, hi, I'm Hannah. I'm your sorority sister from... Ohio. I'm a transfer and looking for a place to stay," Hannah explained, using the lie Dean told her.

"Oh." The blonde blinked then smiled, seeming friendlier. "Hi! I'm Vicky and this is Katie. Let me introduce you to everyone."

Katie still regarded Hannah coldly and returned to reading her magazine as Vicky opened the front door and gestured for Hannah to enter. She did so hesitantly, looking around at the brightly decorated house.

Hannah followed Vicky inside the house, smiling shyly at everyone she introduced to her. They went upstairs where Vicky led her to her room. She barged into a room where a pretty dark-skinned girl with long curly hair and a girl with dark blonde hair were sitting on their respective beds talking.

"Girls, meet our sister from Ohio," Vicky said, uncaring that she interrupted their conversation. "What was your name again?"

"Hannah," she told her once again.

"Lucky for you, we have an extra bed. I'm Taylor by the way," said the curly-haired girl, standing up to greet Hannah. "This is Lori."

Lori smiled wanly and waved, but her face was ashen. Hannah wondered what was wrong with her. She set down her duffel bag in front of her bed while Vicky sat down on the empty bed, making herself comfortable.

"So, _Hannah_, who was that guy who dropped you off here?" Vicky asked.

"What guy? Do we know him?" Taylor questioned eagerly.

"No, but he was hot," Vicky informed her. She smiled slyly at Hannah. "So, is he your boyfriend?"

Hannah's face flushed red. "No, he's not my boyfriend."

"Then is he, like, your friend-with-_benefits_?" Vicky inquired, twirling a lock of hair.

"No."

"Fuck buddy?"

"I've never had a fuck buddy who drives me home!" Taylor whined, falling back on her bed.

"He's not... we aren't like that," Hannah sputtered out.

"Oh." Vicky and Taylor both looked disappointed. "You're probably not his type anyway," Vicky remarked snidely, getting up and leaving the bedroom.

_So, Lori is quiet, Vicky is rude, and Taylor is boy-crazy_, thought Hannah, her face still hot from the embarrassing questions.

"Do you two have boyfriends?" Hannah asked shyly. The smile vanished from Taylor's face and Lori looked away. "Oh, did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's just..." Taylor glanced at Lori who turned back to Hannah.

"It's fine, Taylor. You can tell her," Lori said. She forced a smile, and the queasiness Hannah felt in her stomach returned.

"Lori had a boyfriend. His name was Rich. He, um, died recently," Taylor explained, sorrow coloring her voice.

"Oh. _Oh_. I am so sorry! I didn't—I had no idea," Hannah said, genuinely embarrassed. In the back of her head, she was pleased she found someone who could help with this case, but she still felt guilty for bringing up such painful memories for the poor girl.

Lori gave her a dismissive wave. "I'm not mad. You're new in town, so of course you had no idea," she said then stood. "We're actually headed to church right now. Did you want to come with us?"

"Yeah, sure." Hannah followed the two girls out of the room. She soon learned that Lori was the reverend's daughter on the way to church.

Hannah hadn't been to church since she was baptized at less than six months old. Her dad never forced any sort of religion onto Hannah, but he did teach her different kinds of religion in case she felt like following one. She always loved him for that.

The three of them sat in the front pew in the church. After everyone settled in their seats, service began with Rev. Sorensen speaking above everyone.

"Our hearts go out to the family of a young man who perished. And my personal prayers of thanks go out as well because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter," said Rev. Sorensen.

His daughter swallowed thickly, and Hannah saw pink tinge her cheeks from embarrassment over being called out on the spot like that.

"And now, as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means. To us, as a church—" The sound of doors slamming interrupted his sermon, sending echoes throughout the entire church. Hannah and the others turned in their seats to see who entered.

Of course, it was Dean and Sam.

They spotted Hannah quickly and Dean winked at her while Sam shrugged sheepishly.

"_Idiots_," Hannah mouthed. She rolled her eyes when Dean made a face at her then pushed Sam into a seat in the back pew.

"As a community, and as a family," the reverend continued. "The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings. So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children."

She bowed her head and closed her eyes, but her mind was blank. Hannah didn't pray often, she was usually too busy with her academics or swimming or hunting to pray. Hannah tuned out the rest of the sermon until she heard everyone leaving the church.

Taylor looped her arm with Hannah's and grinned. "So, I was thinking we should throw a party for you. We always have these things whenever a new girl joins our sorority. What do you guys say?"

"I can't. It's Sunday night," Lori declined, frowning.

"It's just us girls then. We're going do tequila shots and watch _Reality Bites_," Taylor decided, keen on throwing a party.

"I love that show!" Hannah chirped, sharing a grin with Taylor. "The people on there are so trashy."

"I know _right_?" Taylor turned back to Lori, giving her puppy dog eyes. "See? Hannah wants to party."

"My dad makes dinner every Sunday night," Lori insisted, and Hannah didn't blame her for not being up to partying.

Taylor pouted, but smiled gently at Lori. "Come on, Lori. I know this has been hard, but you are allowed to have fun."

Lori hesitated then sighed. "I'll try," she promised, and Taylor rolled her eyes. They hugged and Taylor was about to go her separate way when she paused and looked back at Hannah.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked.

"Um..." Hannah's gaze drifted to the two idiots approaching them. "I wanted to introduce you guys to my friends. The guys who dropped me off? Yeah, they're brothers of the fraternity nearby."

"Really? They wouldn't be the guys who..." Taylor trailed off, raising her brows when Dean and Sam finally came up to them. "Hey."

"Hey back." Dean let his eyes roam Taylor's figure then flickered to Hannah, smiling lazily at her. "Hannah. Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"Taylor. Lori, these are my friends since elementary school that transferred here with me: Sam and Dean. They're brothers," Hannah introduced, gesturing back and forth.

"We don't want to bother you. We just heard about what happened and..." Sam offered Lori a kind, apologetic smile.

"We wanted to say how sorry we were," Dean told her.

"I kind of know what you're going through." Hannah snapped her attention to Sam, her eyes widening. This was the first time he was opening up about Jessica, and it sounded like he was attempting to keep the emotion from rising in his voice. "I... I saw someone get hurt once... It's something you don't forget."

Lori nodded in understanding. Hannah glanced over them and noticed Rev. Sorensen walking over to them.

"Dad, um, this is my roommate Hannah and her friends Sam and Dean. They're new students," Lori said, her eyes lingering on Sam.

Dean shook the reverend's hand, smiling politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon."

Hannah guffawed, but passed it off as a cough. Dean shot her a dirty look while Sam smiled at her, amused.

"Thank you very much. It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord's message," Rev. Sorensen said, genuinely pleased.

"Listen, uh, we're new in town, actually..." Dean draped his arm over Hannah's shoulders and steered her and Rev. Sorensen away from Sam, Lori, and Taylor. "And, uh, we were looking for a, um, a church group."

She gave Dean a questioning look. He nodded his head slightly, and Hannah turned back to the reverend with a winsome smile.

"Well, you've come to the right place," Rev. Sorensen said, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"You see, Dean wants to become a... um, a born-again-virgin and since we heard your sermon, we thought _you _would be the best person to help," Hannah explained, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling.

Rev. Sorensen looked at Dean, surprised. Dean forced a smile and shrugged helplessly.

"I'm a new man, reverend," he replied.

"Well, we can arrange a meeting to discuss this more in private," Rev. Sorensen said then clapped Dean on the shoulder. "Come by the church sometime soon, and don't be shy, son. I find it honorable that a young man like yourself has decided to make such a pledge for himself."

"You got it, sir." Dean nodded then as soon as the reverend disappeared; he dropped his arm off Hannah's shoulders and glowered at her. "Why the hell would you say something like that?"

"Oh, calm down. It's not like you're _really _becoming a born-again-virgin," Hannah remarked, brushing off his annoyance. They went over to where Sam stood alone, Lori having left with Taylor back to the sorority house. "Lori was with Rich when the murder happened, guys."

"Yeah, we found out from one of Rich's pals back at the frat house," Sam told her. "We should head to the library; see if we can find anything to help with this job."

Hannah brightened when she heard him say 'library'. She ignored the groan Dean released and followed the boys back to the Impala. Sam explained to them what Lori told him as they drove there.

"So you believe her?" Dean asked as they entered the library.

"I do." Sam nodded, solemn.

"Yeah, I think she's hot too," Dean commented. Hannah refrained from rolling her eyes.

"No, man, there's something in her eyes," Sam murmured then looked at them. "And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car."

"Wait, the body suspended?" Dean asked, frowning. "That sounds like the—"

"Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend," Sam interjected.

"That's one of the most famous urban legends ever. You don't think that we're dealing with the Hook Man, do you?" Hannah questioned, glancing back and forth at them.

Sam shrugged. "Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began."

It made sense the more Hannah thought about it. She just never thought the Hook Man legend would be true, but then again, she didn't think the Bloody Mary legend had been real as well.

"Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?" Dean asked them.

"What if the Hook Man isn't a man, and maybe just some kind of spirit?" Hannah suggested, almost confidently.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Sam said, smiling. He turned to Dean, his smile broadening. "Time for your favorite part: research."

Dean groaned again.

* * *

><p>Hannah looked up when a box slammed down on the table in front of her and the boys. The librarian placed a couple more boxes in front of them.<p>

"Here you go. Arrest records going back to 1851," said the librarian.

"Thank you," Hannah said, smiling politely.

Dean blew some dust off the books at the top of the box, coughing when he inhaled some of it. Hannah looked down at her lap giggling.

"So," Dean started, grabbing a few books and passing them to Hannah and Sam. "This is how you two spent four good years of your lives, huh?"

"Welcome to higher learning," Sam deadpanned, opening the book Dean handed to him.

For the next three hours, they read each the numerous books the librarian found for them. While Hannah didn't mean to, she felt her focus slowly drain and center on Dean instead. As much as he despised research, Hannah could see how good he was at it. His eyes never strayed from what he was reading.

She looked down, focusing on own research once she realized how long she had been staring at him.

"Hey, check this out," Sam called ten minutes later. Hannah and Dean leaned over to read what Sam found. "1862, a preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder."

"Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed thirteen prostitutes," Hannah noted after reading a passage from the book.

"Right here, 'some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh'," read Sam.

Dean flipped a page then pointed to another passage. "Get this, the murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook."

"Look where all this happened," Hannah said, her eyes widening slightly as she continued reading the page.

"9 Mile Road," Dean realized, looking up.

"Same place where the frat boy was killed," Sam deduced.

Dean stood, grinning at the both of them. "Nice job, Dr. Venkmen. Let's check it out."

She and Sam gathered the rest of the research, checked them out, and then headed outside to the Impala. The drive wasn't too long since this was a small town. Hannah fingered the thin silver chain around her neck as they reached their destination, her apprehension rising a little.

Spirits were the easiest to deal with compared to demons and shapeshifters. Still, Hannah always felt like something could go wrong during their hunts. She usually worried about what would happen if Dean or Sam got hurt.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked her, noticing her silence.

"I'm fine," Hannah answered with a smile. "Now move."

He slid out of the driver's seat and Hannah climbed out after him. It was completely dark outside, but thankfully Sam had a flashlight. Hannah tried not to miss her footing as she went over to where Dean was. He opened the trunk and pulled out two shotguns, handing them to Sam and Hannah before grabbing one for himself.

"If it's a spirit, buckshot won't do much good," Sam remarked.

"It's rock salt, Sam," Hannah said, glancing at Dean. She knew he wasn't stupid enough to use buckshot while dealing with a spirit. Did Sam forget some things during his time off as a hunter?

"Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent," Sam murmured, impressed.

"Yeah. It won't kill them." Dean slammed the trunk shut after grabbing a coil of rope. "But it'll slow them down."

"That's pretty good. You guys and Dad think of this?"

"I told you. You don't have to be a college graduate to be a genius."

They explored the area for awhile, pointing their flashlight around in case the spirit was hiding in the darkness. Hannah paused when she heard a twig snap. There was a rustle in the undergrowth behind them, and Sam raised his shotgun.

Dean gestured over to the undergrowth, and Hannah could hear Sam cock the shotgun. She held her breath when someone emerged from behind the trees then widened her eyes when it was just a police officer.

"Put the gun down now! Now!" shouted the officer. Hannah exhaled the breath she'd been holding, partly relieved and partly annoyed. "Put your hands behind your head!"

Hannah dropped her shotgun and followed the officer's orders.

"Wait, wait! Okay, okay!" Dean yelled, seeming more annoyed than Hannah.

"Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!" Hannah, Dean, and Sam reluctantly dropped to their knees. She closed her eyes, trying to soothe her nerves, but the officer screaming at them did nothing to help stop her heart from hammering inside her chest.

"Now get down on your bellies. Come on, do it!" commanded the officer.

"But, officer, my sweater will get dirty!" Hannah cried out, glancing down at her pale mauve sweater.

The officer ignored her and Hannah whimpered as she forced herself to get on the ground. She heard Dean grumble next to her, "_He_ pointed the gun."

She felt the officer confiscate their shotguns before someone else clasp handcuffs around her and the boys' wrists. Hannah would have started bawling if the other officer hadn't hauled her up and shoved her in the backseat of the police car, sandwiching her between Dean and Sam.

_Stop being such a big baby_, Hannah told herself. She took a couple deep breaths before letting her head hit the back of the hard seat.

"Listen," Dean muttered, and Hannah rolled her eyes to him. "Don't say anything. Let me do all the talking."

"Yeah, 'cause having you talk to authority always works out for us," hissed Sam. He shifted next to Hannah and tilted his head to look out the window.

"I blame you for ruining my sweater," Hannah said, glaring at Dean.

"Then don't wear sweaters like that out on hunts!" Dean exclaimed.

"Shut up back there!" snapped the officer driving.

They remained silent for the rest of the drive back to the police station. Hannah wet her lips, noticing how chapped they were. If only her wrists weren't handcuffed then she'd grab her lip balm from the pocket of her jeans. When they were led inside the station, Hannah realized that it was the _sheriff_ who had caught them at 9 Mile Road. _Crap_, she thought, hoping they weren't in huge trouble, or worse: arrested.

Dean looked at her as he was being led to a different room, his expression clearly reminding her not to say anything. Hannah gave a subtle nod of her head, and put up no fight as she was brought into another room. The officer seemed frustrated that Hannah wouldn't answer his questions, but thankfully another officer came in and murmured something in the man's ear.

"You're free to go," the officer announced as he uncuffed Hannah's wrists.

"Don't worry, officer, we won't do that again," Hannah told him then rushed out of the room where she saw Sam waiting for her. "Where's Dean?"

Sam jutted his thumb out to where Dean was. Hannah whirled and rolled her eyes when she saw that he was flirting with the receptionist. She strode over to him, grabbed his wrist, and dragged him out of the police station.

"Hey, hey, hey! I was just talking to the woman! Jeez," Dean grumbled, pulling his arm free from Hannah's grasp.

"What did you say?" Sam asked, mildly annoyed.

"I saved your asses!" Dean exclaimed, grinning at them. "Talked the sheriff down to a fine. Dude, I am Matlock."

"How?" Sam questioned. Hannah watched Dean walk with an air of heightened arrogance. He could be such an idiot sometimes.

"I told him you were a dumbass pledge and that we were hazing you," Dean laughed.

"What about the shotgun? What about Hannah?" Sam demanded as they approached the Impala.

"I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank," Dean replied, twirling the keys around his index and middle finger.

"And he believed you?" Hannah asked, incredulous.

"Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge," Dean scoffed, oblivious to the glare Sam was sending him. "And I told the sheriff that you were there because you... uh..."

"What?" Hannah urged, curious as know how Dean got her out of trouble as well.

Dean smirked and made an obscene gesture with his fist and mouth. Hannah gasped and slapped his arm.

"Why would you say something like that?" she demanded.

"Pay back for telling the reverend that I'm a born-again-virgin," Dean replied, still smirking.

Hannah opened her mouth, about to berate him for embarrassing her when the doors to the police station burst open and several officers rushed out of the building, all running towards various police cars. She exchanged a worried glance with Dean and Sam before hurrying to the Impala.

* * *

><p>The sorority house was the crime scene as they drove by it. Hannah touched Dean's shoulder and he slowed down the Impala until they were parked in front of the sorority house. Sam got out, letting Hannah climb out.<p>

"Meet us in Lori's room when you're done talking to her," Sam instructed, and Hannah nodded, watching them drive off.

Hannah strode over to Lori where sat on the back of a parked ambulance truck, swathed in a blanket. She looked traumatized, but Hannah couldn't blame her. She witnessed her boyfriend getting murdered and now her friend.

Lori looked up when she noticed Hannah coming towards her. "Where were you?" she asked Hannah.

"I was at the library studying with Dean and Sam," Hannah explained then frowned. "Lori, what happened?"

"Taylor, she..." Lori paused, choking back a sob. "Oh God, Hannah, there was blood _everywhere_."

"I'm so sorry." Hannah wrapped her arms around Lori, rubbing her back gently as she sobbed into her shoulder. "Are they letting anyone inside?"

"I don't think so," Lori sniffled, lifting her face from Hannah's shoulder. "Why do you ask?"

"I need my things," Hannah said. She stepped back and headed to the entrance of the sorority house.

"But our room is a crime scene!" Lori called after her, but Hannah paid no mind to the warning.

She was about to open the door, but an officer blocked her from entering. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I need my things. They're in the room where Taylor was killed," Hannah explained, distracted. She wondered if the guys had gotten inside yet, and hoped that they wouldn't get caught if they were. "Please, officer? I haven't even unpacked my bag. Just let me run in and get it."

The officer hesitated then sighed and stepped aside to let her in. Hannah flashed him a smile and ran inside then up the stairs. She managed to dodge a few officers on the way to her room where Hannah waited until the sheriff stepped out of the room where she snuck in. She heard grunting and someone falling in the walk-in closet.

"Be quiet," hissed Sam.

"_You _be quiet!" Dean hissed back.

"_Both_ of you be quiet!" Hannah admonished as she quietly shut the door behind her. The boys emerged from the closet, both glaring at her. She ignored them, looking around. "Look."

"'Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?'" Sam read aloud. "That's right out of the legend."

"Yeah, that's classic Hook Man all right," Dean agreed, going over to the window.

"What is that smell?" Hannah asked, sniffing the air.

"Ozone," answered Dean, glancing back at her. "Means there's a spirit nearby."

She nodded, continuing to look around until she spotted a cross underneath the bloody words. She studied it for a moment before nudging Sam and gesturing to the cross. His eyes narrowed at it then he seemed to understand as well.

"Hey, Dean," Hannah said, still studying the cross. "Does this look familiar to you?"

Dean went over to the foot of another bed and picked up a familiar duffel bag. "We should get out of here before the cops find us."

"Don't think you'll be able to talk the sheriff down to a fine then," Sam said jokingly.

Hannah laughed lightly while Dean rolled his eyes. She bounded over to the window and carefully slipped out first. Making sure she wasn't seen by the cops patrolling the front of the sorority house, Hannah climbed down and landed on the ground a bit ungracefully.

Sam poked his head out the window, and Hannah motioned for him to come out. He slung the thick strap of her duffel bag over his broad shoulder before climbing out the window and jumping down, stumbling towards her when he landed.

They waited for Dean to meet them then left the scene swiftly. The Impala was parked nearby when they approached it where Dean unlocked the trunk so Hannah could place her duffel bag in there. She rifled through the box they had checked out from the library and found a page where the cross they just saw was drawn on it.

The three of them sat on the hood of the Impala, Hannah sandwiched between them as they studied the drawing.

"It's the same symbol," stated Sam, "Seems like it's the spirit of Jacob Karns."

"Alright, let's find the dude's grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down," Dean decided, looking at her and Sam.

"'After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery... in an unmarked cemetery'," Hannah read then lowered the paper, certain that Sam and Dean were just as annoyed as she was.

She was right.

"Super," Dean sighed, resigned.

"Ok. So we know it's Jacob Karns, but we still don't know where he'll manifest next," Hannah said, trying to gather answers.

"Or why," Sam added.

"I'll take a wild guess about why," drawled Dean. He pushed himself off the car and went over to the driver's door. "I think your little friend Lori has something to do with this."

Sam and Hannah glanced at each other before getting off the hood and hopping inside the Impala.

* * *

><p>While they normally did their research at the library, Sam had suggested they head back to the frat house so he could study the cross more on his laptop. Hannah readily agreed because she needed a shower and the sorority house was still a crime scene. Dean only agreed because he remembered that there was a party happening at the frat house.<p>

As soon as she entered the frat house, it was as if everything came to a halt. Two guys lifting a couch froze, another two by the DJ set paused, and the rest just gawked at her. Hannah felt like an animal at the zoo with all these eyes on her. She couldn't have been _that _interesting to look at.

"Hi there," greeted a dark-haired boy.

"Hi," Hannah said, smiling politely. "You guys are having a party here, right?"

"Yeah, but you're a little early," replied another boy, this one with honey blonde locks.

"She's with us," Dean said, tugging on Hannah's ponytail. "Come on."

Hannah waved at all the boys who all grinned at her. She hurried upstairs, hiding her blush. _How embarrassing_, Hannah thought, covering her pink cheeks with her hands. Hannah knew she wasn't ugly, but she certainly wasn't drop dead gorgeous. It was still strange whenever a guy approached her and used a pickup line on her.

Sam guided her to the bathroom and offered her a sheepish smile when he noticed the distraught look on her face.

"Yeah, sorry about the bathroom," he apologized.

"I guess I shouldn't have expected less," Hannah said, giggling at the contrite look on Sam's face. "I'll help you with your 'homework' when I'm finished."

He nodded and dropped her duffel bag to the ground before going to the room he was sharing with Dean and another fraternity brother. Hannah looked around at the messy bathroom and sighed. She was glad Dean and Sam weren't messy to _this _extreme.

Shutting the door, Hannah peeled off her dirt-stained clothes and stepped into the shower after grabbing a clean washcloth from her duffel bag. Thirty minutes later, Hannah stepped out of the shower feeling fresh and clean. She blinked when she realized she didn't have a towel.

"Crap," she muttered, goose pumps crawling up an down her skin. Opening the door ajar, she poked her head out, but made sure her naked body was out of sight. "Sam! Dean! Could one of you bring me a towel!"

There was a clamoring downstairs, and Hannah's face heated up. She sighed in relief when she saw Sam walking towards her with a dark green towel in his hand. He turned away as he handed it to her, and Hannah thanked him profusely before slamming the door behind her.

Toweling herself dry, Hannah changed into spaghetti strapped, chandelier burgundy tank top and distressed skinny jeans. Gathering her dirty clothes in one arm and lifting her duffel bag with the other, Hannah struggled to open the door without dropping she reached the room, Sam was on his laptop while Dean was sprawled out on his temporary bed. She put her things near Sam and Dean's duffel bags and went over to Dean.

"Hey, mind getting us something to eat?" Hannah suggested as she sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Let me guess—strawberry milkshake for you and a salad for geek boy over there?" Dean said, removing the arm that was slung over his eyes.

"Can you just go?" Hannah frowned at him.

Dean rolled off the bed and swaggered out of the room, but not without poking Hannah and ruffling Sam's hair. Sam swatted at his brother as he left, and Hannah suppressed a smile. He could be so annoying, but Hannah couldn't imagine _not_ having this man-child in her life.

Hannah stood and peered over Sam's shoulder at the laptop. "So, what have you gotten so far?"

* * *

><p>By the time Sam and Hannah finished their research, the party the frat boys were throwing had started. Hannah slipped on her tall riding boots and denim jacket before following Sam downstairs where they suddenly in the midst of the party.<p>

There was an uncomfortable look on Sam's face, and Hannah tried to mask her own apprehension with a cheery smile. Some of the frat boys from earlier had came up to her and flirted with her, but Hannah declined each one. She was too focused on this hunt to entertain the silly thought that these guys actually _wanted_ to hook up with her. Hannah also felt weird being at a party. She had only went to _one_ party and that was during her senior year of college where she woke up with a massive hangover and desired never to get roaring drunk again.

Hannah blamed Leo for that horrible experience.

Then there was Dean who seemed to fit in with this party scene, smiling and winking at a girl passing by as he approached them.

"Man, you guys have been holding out on me. This college thing is awesome!" Dean exclaimed, looking around at the scantily-clad girls and guys playing beer pong.

"This wasn't really my experience," admitted Sam.

"Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A's?" Dean said, staring at his brother in disbelief. He scoffed when Sam merely nodded in response. "What a geek. Alright, did you guys do your homework?"

"Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori?" Sam started as the three of them began walking out of the living room. "So, we came up with something."

Hannah unraveled a piece of paper and handed it to Dean. His eyes scanned it as he read aloud. "1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage."

"There's a pattern here," Hannah continued, "In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force."

"Killings carried out—get this—with a sharp instrument," Sam added, his eyes glinting. Hannah noticed that Sam got rather excited when he discovered something new during their hunts.

"What's the connection to Lori?" Dean questioned, puzzled.

"A man of religion? Who openly preaches against immorality?" Hannah stressed, hoping he would understand. He did, and Hannah grinned.

"Except maybe this time, instead of saving the whole town, he's just trying to save his only daughter," Sam said.

"Reverend Sorensen," Dean realized. The corners of his mouth lifted like he wanted to smile when he saw Hannah's grin, but he didn't. "You guys think he's summoning the spirit?"

"He could be," Hannah agreed, crossing her arms. "_Or_ it could be a poltergeist. You know how poltergeists can haunt a person instead of a place?"

"Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend's repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay," Dean said, willing to go with that.

"Without the reverend even knowing it," Sam said, thoughtful. It was a quiet for a moment, with the exception of the loud music blaring around them.

"Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight," Dean told Sam. Hannah silently agreed, knowing from the way Lori looked at Sam, she wouldn't mind some male company.

"What about you two?" Sam asked.

Dean looked across the room, and Hannah followed his gaze. A blonde girl holding a cue stick near the pool table smiled invitingly at Dean. She could see the reluctance to leave on Dean's face, but his dalliance could wait.

"_We're_ going to find that unmarked grave. Right, Dean?" Hannah answered for the both of them.

"Yeah, right." Dean shook his head in disappointment and allowed himself to be led out of the house. He didn't say anything else until they were nearby the cemetery. "So, Hannah, were you like Sam and didn't go to ragers like that?"

Hannah looked at him in surprise from the passenger seat. "I went to _one_ party, but I hardly remember it."

It was Dean's turn to look surprised. "_You_ got wasted?"

"My friends insisted I experience the 'other side' of college since I was usually studying and busy doing government," Hannah explained, a little embarrassed.

"I would love to see you drunk," Dean commented as he parked the Impala outside of the cemetery.

"_Why_?" Hannah questioned, bewildered by his interest of seeing her intoxicated.

"I dunno." Dean shrugged, unbuckling his seatbelt. "You're always so uptight. I just want to see you get loose."

"I can be loose," Hannah said defensively. "I'm loosey-goosey. I'm cool as a cucumber."

He regarded her with an amused look before snorting and stepping out of the driver's seat. Hannah slid out, ready to prove her point that she was "loose" but Dean thrusted a shovel into her arms, the force making her stumble backwards.

"Ever dig a grave?" Dean asked, his grin bordering on insolence.

Hannah smiled, broadening into a grin when Dean's own grin faltered.

"Nope, but I will tonight!" she replied cheerfully. "Let's get this done before Mr. Hook Man, uh, hooks another person."

"Nice pun," chortled Dean.

The gates to the cemetery were locked, so she and Dean were forced to climb them. Picking up the shovel and flashlight she had thrown over the gates, Hannah walked alongside Dean as they searched for the unmarked grave.

They explored the cemetery for about twenty minutes, and Hannah half expected a raven to appear and croon, "_Nevermore_." Luckily for them, Dean spotted the exact grave they were searching for, complete with a cross engraved on the headstone. The same cross they recognized on the wall of Lori and Taylor's room.

Hannah shrugged off her denim jacket and draped it over a headstone nearby. She stretched her arms before she started digging the grave with Dean. It took them almost thirty-five minutes of digging until their shovels finally hit the wooden floor of the grave. Dean straightened, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

She waited for him to break the wooden coffin, but he didn't. Instead, he looked distracted and he seemed to be staring at Hannah strangely.

"What?" she asked him. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Dean blinked out of his daze. "Nothing's wrong, your... nevermind."

She creased his brows, confused by his response, but didn't linger on it and gestured to the coffin. Dean remembered what they were doing and plunged the shovel into the wooden coffin, breaking it slightly. He did it a few more times before it finally broke. Hannah shone the light of her flashlight over the grave, relieved to see the preacher's remains.

"Hello, preacher," Dean mumbled, tossing his shovel aside. Hannah dropped hers and unzipped the duffel bag Dean had brought.

While Dean poured the carton of salt over the bones, Hannah poured the lighter fluid over it. Dean lit a match and was about to toss it in the grave when he paused and looked at Hannah.

"Would you like to do the honors?" he asked, giving her a lazy smile.

"Sure." Hannah accepted the match and tossed it in the grave, taking a small step back when the bones burst into flames.

"Goodbye, preacher," Dean said then picked up his jacket, shovel, and duffel bag off the ground. "What now, Princess?"

Hannah tilted her head, thoughtful then punched Dean's arm playfully. "We see if that party is still going on."

Dean grinned.

* * *

><p>The party <em>was<em> still going on when they returned to the frat house. Some people gave her and Dean suggestive looks after seeing how sweaty and dirty they were. _You guys have it all wrong,_ Hannah thought, blushing.

People were mostly drinking and making out in dark corners of the house. Dean looked thoroughly disappointed when the blonde from earlier was gone, but it didn't last too long as he made his way to the pool table to play a game himself.

"Anyone want to play?" he asked loudly, but no one seemed to hear him.

"I'll play you," Hannah offered, grabbing one of the cue sticks that were leaning against the pool table.

"Oh yeah. I remember teaching you how to play," Dean said as he set the game up. "How old were you again?"

"You taught me when I was seventeen," Hannah remembered, smiling fondly. It disappeared the more she remembered it. "Oh God, you taught me at a _biker_ bar."

"Are you _sure_ it was at a biker bar?"

"Dean, I'm positive it was at a biker bar. I can't remember the last time I was so terrified."

"Why? If I was there, there was nothing to worry about."

Hannah scowled at him. "I was underage! All those men kept looking at me like I was a piece of meat! _And_ there was a man with biceps bigger than your head!"

Dean laughed and started the game. They played for awhile then went upstairs to Dean's room. Hannah took off her boots and collapsed on Sam's bed. She was so tired and this bed was softer than the motel ones.

It felt like only a few minutes passed when she was being shaken awake.

"Wha?" Hannah sat up suddenly, eyes wide, hair tousled. "Huh?" She blinked a few times as her eyes focused on Dean.

"I just got a call from Sam. Lori's dad is in the hospital," Dean told her, frowning.

"What time is it?" Hannah asked instead.

"Five minutes to eight," he replied then moved to the other side of the room. "Come on."

Hannah pushed herself off Sam's bed and sluggishly put on her boots. When they went downstairs, Hannah widened her eyes at how trashed the place was. There was even a guy knocked out on one of the couches.

"Did he tell you what happened?" Hannah inquired as they hurried over to the Impala.

"No, but he sounded startled," Dean answered, unlocking the car.

"Could it be the Hook Man?"

"There's no way. We salted and burned those bones."

Dean was right, she supposed. It couldn't be the Hook Man. She remembered clearly digging up Jacob Karns' grave and salting and burning his remains. If it _was_ him, though... Hannah tried to figure out how this spirit could possibly still be haunting the reverend.

They managed to figure out which floor Sam and Lori were on after seeing police patrolling the lobby. Hannah wheedled the information out of one of the cops who then accompanied them to the elevator where he and another officer walked them to the reverend's room.

"We're with him," Hannah told the two officers, gesturing to Sam who was standing outside the reverend's room talking to the sheriff.

"He's our brother," Dean added, half lying. He waved at Sam. "Hey! Brother!"

"Let them through," commanded the sheriff.

"Thanks," Hannah told the officers, flashing a smile before running over to Sam. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"I'm fine, Hannah," Sam said, uncaring that Hannah was checking his face for injuries. She rolled up the sleeves to his hoodie, making sure he didn't have any scratches on him arms.

"What the hell happened?" Dean demanded.

Sam glanced behind him then leaned towards them and said in a hushed voice, "Hook Man."

"What!"

"You saw him?"

"Damn right," Sam answered before glaring at them. "Why didn't you guys torch the bones?"

"What are you talking about? We _did_," Dean replied snappishly.

"Are you _sure_ it's the spirit of Jacob Karns?" Hannah asked, cutting in before Dean and Sam could quarrel.

"It sure as hell looked like him, and that's not all." Sam glanced behind him again, and Hannah realized he was looking back at Lori in the hospital room. "I don't think the spirit is latching on to the reverend."

"Well, yeah, the guy wouldn't send the Hook Man after himself," Dean said, somewhat derisively.

"I think it's latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman," Sam revealed. Hannah widened her eyes from this new information, and her head began to swim as she calculated different theories.

"So what?" Dean said, shrugging.

"_So _she's upset about it," Hannah told him. "She's upset over the _immortality_ of it. Don't you get it?"

"She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished," Sam added.

Dean nodded and said, "Ok, so she's conflicted, and the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he's doing the punishing for her, huh?"

"Yes!" Hannah exclaimed, proud that he finally understood. She knew Dean wasn't dumb, just that he didn't piece things together as quick as she and Sam.

"Right." Sam gave her an amused look. "Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair."

"Remind me not to piss this girl off," Dean remarked offhandedly. "But we _burned_ those bones, we _buried_ them in salt. Why didn't that stop him?"

"You guys must have missed something," Sam replied, unsure.

"No." Dean shook his head, but Hannah thought about what they possibly could have missed. "We burned everything in that—"

"The hook!" Hannah grabbed Dean's arm, startling him. "We didn't get the hook, Dean."

"So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power," Dean realized, looking up at his brother.

"So if we find the hook..." Sam trailed off.

"We stop the Hook Man," he and Dean finished. They shared a smile.

"Wait, does that mean...?" Dean started to ask then groaned.

"Yup. It means we hit the library," Hannah answered for him. "Oh, don't give me that look, Dean. Researching isn't _that_ bad."

"Speak for yourself," he muttered. "Let's just get this over with."

"That's the spirit!" Hannah grinned.

She heard Sam laugh behind her as she and Dean led the way out of the hospital.

* * *

><p>"Here's something, I think," Dean spoke up. He was fiddling with his pencil when Hannah lifted her head, having been reading through several passages of the different books they found in the library. "Logbook, Iowa State Penitentiary. 'Karns, Jacob. Personal affects: disposition thereof'."<p>

"Does it mention the hook?" Sam asked. Hannah leaned forward in her chair so she could see Dean. She sat on Sam's left at the table while Dean was on his right.

"Yeah, maybe." Dean skimmed the page before reading it aloud. "'Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner's house of worship, St. Barnabas Church'."

She creased her eyebrows. "Isn't that where Lori's father preaches? Where Lori lives?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded while Sam frowned. "Maybe that's why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends' daughters for the past 200 years."

"Yeah, but if the hook were at the church or Lori's house, don't you think someone might've seen it?" Sam questioned, glancing at Dean and Hannah. "I mean, a bloodstained, silver-handled hook?"

"I'll go check the church records," Hannah decided, standing up. She went over to the desk where the librarian was and asked for the church records. The librarian sighed, but got up and went to fetch the records for Hannah.

Twenty minutes later, the librarian walked up to their table with a relatively old looking record book. Hannah rifled through the records until she found something related to what they were researching.

"'St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary'," Hannah read then frowned. "Oh, this is going to suck."

"What?" Sam and Dean both asked.

"They melted it down and made it into something else," Hannah answered, looking up from the records.

"Alright, we can't take any chances," Dean said, closing the book in front of him. "Anything silver goes in the fire."

"I agree. Lori's still at the hospital. We'll have to break in," Sam told them as he started to put everything away. Hannah helped him and the three left the library. They stopped by the frat house to retrieve their duffel bags before heading to the church.

It was a short drive to St. Barnabas Church, and the sun was low in the sky when they arrived. Hannah was familiar with breaking into houses; it was one of the first things she learned as a hunter; but breaking into a _church_ seemed sinful.

_Oh well, it's for a good cause_, Hannah thought as she climbed out of the backseat. She accepted the pistol Dean handed to her, tucking it in the inside pocket of her jean jacket.

"Alright, take your pick," Dean said to Sam.

"I'll take the house," Sam decided.

"Where should I go?" Hannah asked, glancing at them.

"You're with me," Dean told her. "Hey, Sam." Sam paused on his way to the Sorensens' house. "Stay out of the underwear drawer."

Sam gave him a blank look, but said nothing as he turned away and kept walking towards the house. Hannah rolled her eyes and followed Dean inside the church. He could be so immature at times.

After breaking into the church, she and Dean grabbed anything that looked remotely silver and carried it downstairs to the basement. Dean opened the door where the fire was being contained and they tossed everything in there. About ten minutes later, Sam found them with a bag of silver.

"I got everything that even _looked_ silver," Sam said as he tossed some jewelry into the fire.

"Better safe than sorry," Hannah remarked, helping him.

There were footsteps coming from upstairs. She looked at them, and Dean motioned for her and Sam to follow him upstairs. Despite the church being dimly lit, Hannah could see someone sitting in a pew alone. She realized it was Lori after recognizing her sobbing. Dean lowered his gun and Sam walked over to Lori.

"I'll guard. Just in case the Hook Man comes," Hannah whispered to Dean. He nodded and headed back downstairs.

She half listened to Sam and Lori's conversation, her frown deepening the more she heard Lori's guilt. Hannah touched the handle of her pistol when she heard a noise. She hurried over to where Sam and Lori were the louder the noise became.

"Sam—" Hannah gasped sharply when the flames in the candles went out. She pulled out her pistol and cocked it.

"We need to get to the basement," Sam said. He gestured for her and Lori to follow him.

Sam opened the door leading down to the basement and a hook suddenly lunged through the door. Lori screamed behind them and Sam yelled at them to run back. Hannah flinched each time the Hook Man smashed something with his hook.

The Hook Man materialized in the back room they retreated to and swung at Sam. Hannah dropped her gun and shoved Sam out of the way just as the hook was about to sink itself in his shoulder. It instead stabbed her in her left shoulder. The Hook Man disappeared, but he dragged Lori on her back across the floor.

"Hannah!" Sam shouted when Hannah stopped screaming. She clutched her shoulder, her whole body trembling from the pain and the feel of blood seeping out of her wound.

"Go to Lori!" Hannah cried. He nodded and ran over to Lori, asking if she was okay.

Hannah was about to go over to them, but an invisible force knocked Sam backwards into a wall. She widened her eyes when she saw Sam get up and maneuvered himself behind the Hook Man.

"Sam!" shouted another voice. Hannah whirled and saw Dean with his shotgun raised. "Drop!"

Sam crouched and Dean shot at the Hook Man once. He disappeared into dust. Dean jogged over to them, his eyes widening when he saw Hannah's shoulder.

"I thought we got all the silver," Hannah panted then winced. It pained her to move her shoulder.

"Well, we obviously didn't," Dean snapped, eyeing her shoulder.

"We must have missed something," Sam said, stating the obvious.

They all looked around, wondering if they missed something silver in this room. Sam turned to Lori and his eyes fell to her chest. Hannah almost scoffed, but then she noticed what he was staring at.

"Lori, where did you get that chain?" Sam questioned, still breathing heavily.

"My father gave it to me."

"Where'd your dad get it?"

"He said it was a church heirloom, he gave it to me when I started school."

"Is it silver?"

"Yes!"

Sam ripped the chain off from around Lori's neck. Hannah froze when she heard a long scratch coming from the hallway. The Hook Man was invisible now and was scratching the wall. He tossed the chain to Dean who in return tossed him the shotgun before running to the basement.

Hannah crawled backwards to where Lori sat, still clutching her bloodied shoulder. Sam shot blindly at the wall, but the Hook Man still scratched the wall with his hook. Lori was shaking next to her, fear plain on her face.

The Hook Man appeared and knocked the shotgun out of Sam's hands. He dodged an incoming swipe of his hook, and crawled over to where Hannah and Lori sat. Hannah's jaw clenched, hating that she couldn't do anything as well as the pain in her shoulder.

He raised his hook and Hannah moved so she covered Lori. She waited for the hook to make contact, but it didn't. She looked up, and saw that the raised hook was melting while the rest of his form burned into nothing.

"It's gone," Lori whispered in amazement.

"Here." Sam helped Hannah stand. "Hannah, I don't... I don't know what to say."

"A thank you would suffice," she told him primly. Sam chuckled, and he looked up the same time she did when they heard someone walked over to them. It was Dean, panting from running around.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I will be as soon as the paramedics look at me," Hannah replied with a tired smile.

The paramedics and police arrived twenty minutes later. The police were questioning Sam, Dean, and Lori nearby while a paramedic fixed up her shoulder. Hannah thanked the paramedic who helped her and trudged over to the Impala where Dean leaned against the passenger door.

She leaned against the car, their arms touching. Dean looked down at the bandage.

"I'm fine, you know," Hannah said, crossing her arms and looking up at him.

"Sam told me what happened. Are you crazy?" Dean questioned, tilting his body so he'd face her.

"He was about to get hooked," Hannah said, shrugging. "He's like my brother. I have his back just like you have his."

Dean regarded her with an unreadable expression on his face. Before he could say anything, Sam came over to them.

"You sit in the front, Han," Sam said then smiled softly. "Thanks again."

"Anytime—well, hopefully not _anytime_," Hannah replied. She shared a smile with Sam who then went in the backseat. Hannah slid into the passenger seat and as she buckled her seatbelt, she noticed Lori through the side view mirror.

"We could stay," Dean offered, noticing the sad look on Lori's face as well. Sam shook his head in response. "Hey, Princess, did you get to see a naked pillow fight at the sorority house?"

"No! I was at the library the whole time, _remember_?" Hannah reminded him. She turned around in her seat to look at Sam, hoping to wipe the disappointed look off his face. "Sam, are you aware that your brother likes to teach underage girls how to play pool at _biker_ bars?"

"No." There was an amused look on Sam's face. "Mind elaborating, Dean?"

The rest of the drive out of Ankeny, Iowa was spent in laughter and rock music.


End file.
